


Blurred Lines

by HillbillyOfDoom



Category: In the Heat of the Night
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillbillyOfDoom/pseuds/HillbillyOfDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With one of Althea's patients on the lam with his money, Philadelphia's biggest crime boss wants answers.  The former Mrs. Tibbs seeks help from the only people she can still trust and that's the Sparta P.D.</p><p>If you liked this story at FF, give it another try.  This is a revised version of the original.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters are borrowed with no intent to profit.

Althea sat quietly, wringing her hands where they laid in her lap. She was deep in thought and could no longer hear the two armed men bickering between themselves.

“You ate the last one on purpose.”

“No, I didn’t!” came the curt reply. Exasperation followed, “You always pull this crap.”

“What crap? The only crap in this room is you!”

“And you wonder why nobody wants to work with you....” A long list of annoying habits was enumerated right down to how he parked crooked and slurped the last of his fountain drinks to such excess he was going to eventually give himself a brain aneurysm.

Althea sensed someone sit next to her on the bed. She didn’t look up.

“Mom?” a youthful voice asked.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“You OK?”

With a deep breath, she broke out of her funk. “Yeah, hon. I’m fine.” She patted the girl’s leg and looked into her lovely face, offering a smile that wasn't entirely forced. How had she been so lucky? She had not one, but two beautiful children. Her son sat on another bed playing his Game Boy Advance. He glared at the screen with determination, thumbing buttons like his life depended on it. Silly cartoonish beeps and blurps suggested he was taking things way too seriously.

The motel room was too cold. The day before, it had been too hot. The two men couldn’t agree on that either. Althea wore a heavy sweater, while Sarah sported a hooded sweatshirt. It was the little girl's favorite. White letters on a navy blue background proclaimed her membership in a local soccer league.

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” the girl whispered.

“This will all be over soon.” Althea didn’t really believe that, but she didn’t have the heart to tell the girl the truth. Yes, the trial would start soon, but would it ever really end?

The girl’s voice grew more strained, “I have a  _bad_ feeling.”

Realization dawned on Althea's face. This wasn’t just anxiety. This was one of the girl’s preternatural bad feelings.

Althea played it safe, not really in a position not to. She looked to her bodyguards, feeling even less confident in their abilities now that they'd slipped into a sulking silent treatment towards one another. She feigned a curious glance towards the room's one window, though she could see nothing through the closed curtains. “I thought I heard something out there.”

“Probably nothing,” the older of the two men grunted, still not taking his steely glare away from the partner that had so recently ran down a list of his inadequacies.

The other broke in, with the air that he was going to prove himself the better man, “I’ll go look around, probably should anyway.”

“Thank you. It would certainly make me feel better.” She liked this one. The other one could be a real jerk. Not that she wanted to see either of them get hurt in all of this. She wanted to know for sure that no one was out there. The two men hadn’t been paying attention, as usual. They were too busy tormenting one another. Even as the younger of the two let himself out of the motel room, a fiery glance was shared between the two before he ducked out onto the second floor balcony.

Althea no sooner stood to stretch her lean frame than she heard gunshots, which were followed by yelling. She followed her first gut instinct, which was to get more than a flimsy motel door between her children and whatever was going on outside. She ordered her children into the bathroom and slammed the door behind them.

As she put her weight against an even flimsier door with no lock, she faced reality. She wasn't going to be much of a hinderance to someone wanting to get in. She was tall, but thin. Worse, she was stuck in a room with only one way in or out. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she'd do if the outer room was breached.

Anger rose up in her. She'd thought the second floor was a bad choice, but had been bullied into accepting the room by the two outside who claimed to know what they were doing.

Seconds ticked into minutes and soon the children claimed to hear sirens. She heard them a good thirty seconds later, not so much a testament to their better hearing, but proof that her blood was still hammering away in her ears. The full assault they expected on the motel room never came.

When backup units gave them the all clear, Althea collected her terrified kids from the bathroom where she'd left them as she had ventured out to find out what was going on. She felt her rage build again now that she'd been given sketchy details about what had happened.

Her younger body guard had actually ran into the hired muscle sent to collect her, or perhaps kill her. Both parties were taken by such surprise that shots were exchanged, but none connected. The suspects had fled, since the element of surprise was gone.

Althea was ordered to pack up and be ready to move again.  _I’m going to pack alright_ , she thought to herself. Pack up her kids and find herself some competent protection.

She overheard her body guards, the youngest still shaken, arguing over the phone with their superiors about where to go next.

“I know where we’re going next. You’re taking me home!” Althea said angrily as she tossed luggage onto one of the two sad looking motel beds. They were still heavy. Little had been unpacked and the first bag was opened, filled and closed again before either cop could even get a rebuke out.

“Lady, that’s not possible. They’ll be waiting. Philly is off limits!” the older cop snorted.

“You’re right. It is off limits. That’s why you’re taking me home to Sparta.” She continued to stuff items into the second bag, not even giving the two a glance. She was going, with or without them.

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker Williams was working the late shift, answering the phone. He was alone in the building except for a couple of drunks sleeping it off in the cells and his fellow uniformed night owls coming and going from patrol.

He sighed as he signed one form after another.  _Will_ _you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?_ He was on night duty as punishment again.

He was brought back to reality when he heard one of the front doors open. Looking up, he forgot about his troubles and smiled broadly. “Mz. Tibbs! What in the world....” He hopped out of his chair with an eagerness that no one else could ever match. Parker didn't want to just see and hear everything as the world went by, he wanted to stop it and ask it where it was going and why.

He stopped short and gave her an anxious look that was rare for him, so prone to just blurting out whatever came to mind and not thinking twice. “It's not exactly 'Mrs.' anymore is it.”

“Maybe you can just start calling me Althea, like I asked you to.”

“I couldn't do that, Mz....”

Althea chuckled, then teased, “Old habits die hard don't they, Lt. Williams.”

The officer flashed a bright smile, which many considered to be his best feature. “Will 'Mz. Peterson' do, ma'am?”

Used to the stubbornness of the men in this particular small southern town, she gave in. “That will be fine, Parker... or Tibbs for that matter. It doesn't bother me.” Her body language assured she was being quite honest, as always. Being open with her feelings was her trademark, as much as being a chatterbox was Parker's.

As if Althea's arrival wasn't enough of a surprise, another person erupted through the door announcing, “You should have waited for me.”

Althea rolled her eyes, signaling that the stranger was with her. Which was a relief, because Parker had immediately noticed that the man following in Althea's wake was armed. A shoulder holster peeked out from under his unzipped jacket. He also looked rough around the edges. Tired and very unhappy.

Althea noticed her old friend's expression. “It’s alright, Parker. He’s Philadelphia P.D.”

Parker’s expression didn’t soften. Before he could speak, Althea leaned heavily on the partition that split the room, creating the station's bullpen. “It’s a long story,” she sighed with exhaustion. It had been nice to tease Parker like old times, but her current situation had just waltzed in and was demanding attention.

xxxxxxxxxx

“I took one look at the coffee maker and figured you’d do better with a root beer.” Parker handed Althea the soda. She’d made herself comfortable on the davenport in the chief’s office.

“So, Luke still likes his coffee to be more of a science experiment than a morning pick-me-up,” she joked.

“It’s beyond science now. We’re getting into horror movie.”

Althea only smiled and popped open the soda can. The crunch of the seal breaking and then the sudden eruption of fizzy bubbles seemed eerie against the quiet backdrop of the office. The station was almost alien to her so late at night. It seemed dark, lacking the warmth she remembered. It was obvious that it wasn't the place, but the people, that made her feel safest here.

Parker used the chief of detectives' desk as a place to sit. Lonnie wouldn’t care.

“How long were you seeing this guy?” Parker asked.

“Only for a few months, off and on,” Althea replied. “I don’t really have regular patients. I work for a nonprofit.” She stood and began to walk around the office. She turned the cold aluminum can in her hands. “Mostly referrals from victims' organizations, the city, the county... a lot of the local businesses recommend us to their employees. Just an ear for the community, you might say.”

She stopped and surveyed photos on the wall. She spotted a lot of familiar faces and a few new ones. Turning back to Parker, she continued, “Supposedly, one of my other patients was a coworker of his. He referred him to me.”

Althea sat back down. “I didn’t ask who the other patient was. Privacy issues.”

“Gonna tell me how this fella got you into this mess or is that a privacy issue too?” Parker asked with weary concern.

Althea only gave a strained chuckle and shook her head. “You know, I’d have taken this all to the grave with me. It comes with the job, but this is beyond me. They’re threatening not only me, but my kids.”

She looked up to see Parker’s expression grow dark, before she explained, “His name is James Kelly. I thought I had another burn out on my hands. He was on the fast track, the very fast track to a promising career as a lawyer. One of the nation’s biggest and best firms.”

She continued, “After awhile, I can only guess that he decided he could trust me. He started to tell me what was really going on in his life. He’d gotten himself mixed up with organized crime. His job conveniently had him making a lot of trips to Miami.”

Parker spoke up, “Miami? Let me guess, drugs.”

“Exactly. But he wasn’t just your typical mule. He was more of an errand boy. All that charisma and brains, they didn’t want to waste him stuffing drugs down his throat.”

Althea began to pace again. “He did all the shaking of hands and formal dinners that kept the authorities turning a blind eye. A little cash here, a little cash there. Oddly enough, that cash became his downfall.”

“Got greedy?” Parker asked.

“Sadly, he was never in it for the money or drugs... at least, I don’t think he was.”

Althea paused for a moment, then said, “He had a younger sister named Lori. She’d been on a transplant list for months, with no luck. They come to him and tell him they can solve his sister’s problem if he’ll work for them.”

Parker was now feeling a twinge of sympathy for the boy. Could he really say he’d have said no, in a situation like that? “Did they not keep their end of the bargain?” Parker asked.

Althea replied, “They actually did.”

Parker was genuinely surprised. “Wow, that’s a new one.”

“If she died, why would he stick around? She received her organ and all was fine. By now, he’d been coming to me for a couple of months. I assumed, with the worst of his crisis over, he’d go and I’d never see him again, but there was a snag.”

“Always is,” Parker muttered.

“The sister was as sharp as he was, she knew something was funny about the whole thing and confronted him. The last time he was in my office, he was asking if he should tell her the truth. I got the impression that he’d come to a conclusion before he left, that he’d do just that. Tell her the truth. I never saw him again.”

Althea nodded to her police escort. He’d been leaning in the doorway through the whole conversation. She explained, “It wasn’t until they filled me in on the details that I had any idea what was going on.”

The out-of-town cop spoke up, “Lori began to suffer from complications and died. Whether she ever knew the whole truth, no clue. Either way, James split town with a big bundle of cash. Hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Blair wants his money back and he’s hoping our lady here can tell him where to find it.”

“Blair?” Parker asked, unfamiliar with the name.

“Big Philly crime boss,” the other cop explained. “Hell, he _is_ the big boss. Sitting in a cell right now, after the FBI and Philly P.D. spent years trying to bring him down. Unfortunately, the case isn’t going well. It should have started already. It’s been postponed... again.”

“Not that I don’t love to see you, Mz. Ti... Peterson.” An apologetic smile later, he continued, “But why did you come all the way down here. Couldn’t they keep you safe up there?”

Althea let her escort answer that one. “We’ve got a big leak somewhere. Probably the reason it’s taken us this long to dig the hooks into Blair. Worse, she's not even a witness in Blair’s case. It’s only because she’s made so many friends in the system that we were able to get her any protection at all.”

Althea added, “Every time we moved, they knew where we were. Finally, I got fed up and had them bring me here.”

“How did they know about you at all? I mean, this guy wouldn’t go around bragging that he’d been getting his head examined,” Parker reasoned.

Althea shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I wish I knew.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill Gillespie fumbled in the dark for the ringing phone. Harriet stirred next to him, muttering something about Parker and another UFO sighting. Finding the phone, Bill said, “Parker, this had better be good.”

“How’d you know it was me, Chief?” Parker asked.

“It’s always you.”

“You still got that head cold? Cause if ya do....”

“What do you want, Parker?” the chief asked angrily. Oh, how the boy tried his patience.

“You’re not gonna’ believe who’s here, Chief.”

The house was deathly quiet and Harriet could overhear Parker’s every word. “Maybe it’s the Loch Ness Monster this time... caught it robbing the gas station,” she suggested with a chuckle.

Bill covered the phone and said, “Will you hush up, don’t give him any ideas.” His attention back to the phone, he asked, “Who is it?” He waited for a ridiculous answer.

“It’s Mz. Tibbs... uh, Peterson... She’s right here in the flesh, Chief.”

Bill sat up in bed. “At this hour of the night?”

“Yep, surprised me too... she’s in trouble. Big trouble.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“Can we feed ‘em?” Billy asked, peering through a screen door. Chickens pecked lazily in the front yard. A dozen rusty colored hens, watched over by a proud rooster. All no more than thirty feet from where the twins stood, watching from just beyond a front porch that seemed iconic, right down to flowers in pots and an old wooden swing hanging by chains bolted overhead.

“Sorry guys, you’re going to have to stay inside for now,” Althea replied. “I know it’s not fun... or fair.”

“Guess these two didn’t get the memo. Today’s youth abhor the great outdoors,” officer Dee Shepherd jested. She’d returned from making her way around the property. She wanted to be familiar with it. For now, she was on watch on the small farm. If things remained quiet, she’d be on watch only during the night. Too many people coming and going would attract attention.

“Beautiful place she has here,” Dee went on to say, looking like she'd fit right in. Her long blonde hair held back in a french braid and wearing a soft flannel shirt and jeans, she looked the part of the prettiest farmer's daughter in the county.

“Certainly is,” Althea agreed. “Good place to raise a family.”

“Kind of regretting going back to the big city?” Dee asked.

“Oh God, yes,” Althea let out with a sigh. “When I was single, it was wonderful. The art, the culture, but raising children changes all that.”

Dee had noticed a change in Althea. She’d always liked Althea, but she’d always found her a little odd. Dee couldn’t put her finger on it, so she had just chalked it up to Althea being a city girl. A little too sophisticated and high strung for small town life.

Dee was still studying what seemed to be a more mellow version of the big city girl, when Parker’s Jeep pulled into the horseshoe driveway out front. Hens scattered with surprising speed as the rooster launched into a series of warning cries. Parker and the chief wasted no time coming inside, leaving the rooster to carry on. Prying eyes were a dime a dozen in Sparta and they didn't want to make too much of a scene.

Bill took off his hat as he crossed the threshold and said, “It’s been far too long, my dear.” Althea only responded with a big hug, which Bill returned willingly. He went on to say, “And these children can’t possibly belong to someone so young.”

“Still the sweet talker,” Dee warned lightly from the sidelines.

Althea put her arms around her children. “Billy. Sarah. You remember Chief Gillespie.”

The old man's air of authority easily coaxed out the best of manners in both of them. “Good morning, Mr. Gillespie,” Sarah replied softly.

“Good morning, sir,” Billy said, offering his hand. Bill returned the hand shake.

“Meeting such polite children is an absolute pleasure,” Bill told them both.

Althea hugged them both with pride and said, “You two better go in and round up some breakfast.”

With the children gone, Bill asked, “So how are Sparta’s loveliest ladies this fine morning?”

“I don’t know about those two, but this ol’ woman’s doin’ just fine,” came a voice from up the stairs.

“Miss Nida, if you’re old, I don’t want to know what I am,” Bill teased.

Nida Cromwell descended the stairs to join them. She was well into her late sixties, but could pass easily for fifty. She was a large, stout woman with simple beauty. She'd turned many heads, yet managed to stay single and very happily independent.

With no siblings, she’d still somehow managed to become an aunt of sorts to many around Sparta. That included Parker Williams, who’d spent many a summer afternoon on her farm.

xxxxxxxxxx

“I’ve talked to the Philadelphia authorities. As of right now, only three people know you’re here. The two men who brought you here and their commanding officer,” the chief explained.

Althea sat at the kitchen table, taking up the spot across from him. “I wish that made me feel better, but it doesn’t,” she replied.

Dee was leaning against the kitchen counter and responded, “At worst, someone will find out you’re here in Sparta, but they won’t know exactly where you are.”

“And if they come into town looking for you, I’ll know,” Parker said with a grin. He'd plunked down at the table between Althea and the chief, eager to be involved.

“Now I do feel better,” Althea said, touching Parker’s arm. “But I can’t stay here forever.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Parker said and turning to the chief, he continued, “I think we need to find this Kelly fella, Chief. They think she knows where he is. We find him and hand him over to the authorities, Blair's people won't need her anymore. They might not be able to get to him, but they'll sure know where he is.”

“And how do you suggest we do that? If he's smart, he's long gone,” Bill reminded, quickly regretting it. To be the voice of reason was one thing, but he didn't want to usher in a sense of hopelessness.

“Well, I’ve got some time off coming. Actually, quite a bit. What if I went up and looked around?”

“It’s not our jurisdiction and it’s not our case. I could never get the city to fund the trip.”

“We could round up the money,” Parker explained. “Might take a little time, but we could do it.”

“Without telling folks what it’s for?” Dee asked doubtfully.

Nida interjected, “I know I can get a plane ticket for you. That won’t be a problem.” He knew the kind of connections she had, so she didn't bother to elaborate.

“Heck, I could cover the rest,” Parker added in triumph.

Althea then said, “Parker, I can’t let you do this. It’s not your job to protect me or solve my problems.”

“And I don’t remember authorizing this outing in the first place,” the chief added.

Ignoring the chief's comment, Parker pushed on. “Mz. Tibbs.” He caught his error, but refrained from correcting it. That would get him 'the look'. “You’re like family. Anybody else would offer to go if they could. Lonnie would go, or Bubba... Luann... They’d all do it. They’re just not here to offer.”

Althea had to blink back tears.  _How could I have ever left this place? I must have been blind or just down right foolish._

“He’s right, hon, I’d go. I will go if need be,” Dee added.

The chief sat in deep thought for a moment and then asked Parker, “If the Philadelphia police couldn’t find him, why do you think you can?” He was right back to that fundamental question. How?

“First off, they’ve got a big corruption problem. Somebody on the inside might be keeping them off the trail, hoping Blair can get to him first. Second, I’ll just be a guy on vacation. Not a cop. Folks might say more.”

“The boy’s got a good argument there,” Nida said, winking at Parker.

“I agree,” Bill replied reluctantly. “Parker, you’re going to be alone in this. The big city is a dangerous place. There's not much respect for a badge _here_. It's even worse _there_.”

“Yeah, have Bubba show you his scars,” Dee added seriously. “Could have gotten himself killed.”

Althea could recall that incident all too well and spoke up, “I’m not liking this idea. I don’t want you getting hurt, Parker.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Althea finished the chapter she was reading before closing her book. She could hear Nida finishing the dinner dishes in the kitchen. Knowing better than to ask to help, she sat quietly and just listened. Living in the suburbs was no substitute for what Nida had here. Open windows let in sounds of nocturnal life that were almost entirely missing back home in Philadelphia, not that she'd have ever felt safe enough to leave the windows wide open through the evening anyway. That thought just sent her into a bleak mood, wondering if she could ever really go back to that life.

Parker had been gone for a week and hadn’t turned up a single lead. The case against Blair was still on hold, yet another set back had come along. Not that a conviction would deter Blair. No one was even sure whether he just wanted his money back or if he wanted to set an example of those who had crossed him. Meanwhile, the twins were suffering from a serious case of cabin fever and she wasn’t doing much better.

She was finally back in Sparta. It was a trip she’d wanted to make for a long time, but not like this. Now that she was here, she couldn’t even see many of the people she’d missed so much.

She also had little idea of what was going on back home. Virgil had moved back to the city to be closer to the children and was still there, as were her parents.

The couple had tried to put their failing marriage back together, but it hadn't work out. Counseling and short separations had failed to save the union, but had actually saved their friendship. It gave them both the opportunity to come to terms with the fact that they had simply grown apart. Grown into different people with different needs and future plans. No one was the bad guy. No one was to blame. When their marriage officially ended it was strangely calm and uneventful. Civil enough to allow them to remain friends. Good friends.

Her parents and her ex had been a big help. She couldn’t imagine trying to have a career and raise two children without having them on board. Unfortunately, she’d been forced to leave them in the dark about this whole situation. Before being whisked away by the police, she’d contacted Virgil and told him the most basic of the facts. The less they knew, the better.

“Sittin’, starin’ off into space... means one thing, too much thinkin’,” Nida teased.

“Do you think Parker will call tonight?” Althea asked. She seemed devoid of energy, sagging in her chair.

“He always does, but it is gettin’ kind of late. I’ll be up a good while longer....” As usual, the older woman was hinting that she'd take care of it. She'd insisted on taking care of everything since the exhausted family had arrived on her doorstep.

“I have the feeling it’ll just be a repeat of yesterday,” the younger woman admitted.

Nida furrowed her brow. “I’m afraid ya might be right.”

“Well, I’m calling it a night,” Althea said, standing up to stretch.

Moments later, Althea found herself under a weak stream of hot water, which Nida had already apologized for. Her country well and old plumbing couldn't produce the sort of pressure one got in the city. Althea didn't care then and still didn't, just grateful for normalcy. Hot water. A real bed. A house that creaked and groaned. It didn't have the prefabricated feel of the countless motels she'd been forced to stay in.

Finishing quickly to spare Nida's electric bill, she stepped out of the rough looking steel tub onto a fluffy rug that felt wonderful between her toes. Other matching rugs dotted the cold white tile floor. A checkered pattern of similar blue and light blue tiles ascended a third of the way up the walls, giving way to old fashioned white plaster. The kind she had once heard had horse hair mixed in.

She slipped into a robe and as she tied it closed, she heard a knock on the heavy wooden door. Nida merely made her announcement softly through the door. “Sorry, hon, no news. He’ll be flyin’ back tomorrow.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker hung up the phone and grabbed something to sleep in. He was catching an early flight home in the morning and wanted to take a shower.

He just couldn’t understand it. He’d turned over every rock and found nothing. If only he could figure out how they’d found out about Althea in the first place. Somebody had to know something or Mrs. Tibbs... Peterson... wouldn’t be in her current mess.

Deep in thought, he almost didn’t hear his cell phone ring. Answering, all he heard was, “Meet me at the Christ Church in one hour.” The phone went silent.

Parker didn’t want to get his hopes up, but this was something. Definitely something.

He quickly dialed a familiar number.

xxxxxxxxxx

Within the hour, Parker found himself driving by the church. Everything seemed in order.  _Not like they’re gonna hold up a sign_ , he admitted to himself.

He drove around the block and parked a good distance down the street from the church. He surveyed the scene for awhile. Deciding he’d better just get it over with, he started walking. The church’s front doors were unlocked. He entered the building cautiously to find it dimly lit, making him suspect the place wasn't supposed to be open to the public so late.

“Hello? Anybody here?” He heard his voice echo back at him and it made him uneasy. He started wondering how the chief would have him handle the situation. Or Lonnie. Or Bubba.

That was the problem. The chief would have had someone else take care of it. Until now, it would have been Lonnie or Bubba or someone else. Parker had never really been allowed to think for himself and now he was beginning to doubt his abilities. Bubba and Lonnie were the chief's favorites for a reason, right? So why was he here and not them?

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized someone was sitting in a pew. He heard them say, “I was hoping you’d show.” It was a woman’s voice. He couldn’t be sure if it was the same voice he’d heard on the phone. She continued as he approached, “I spend a lot of time here. It’s peaceful. Helps clear my head.”

By the time he sat down next to her, he knew who she was. He’d met her earlier in his informal investigation. Kelly’s landlord had been out of town and this young lady, the landlord's daughter, had been filling in for her.

When she’d opened the door to the manager’s office and almost ran into him, she’d left him speechless. Noticing his expression, she’d said with a hint of self-consciousness, “Not my usual attire. I’m a hostess. The restaurant's clientele are rather... use your imagination.”

He tried, but he was just a small town fella. Her black leather dress seemed painted on and was unnaturally glossy. Cleavage heaved up, ready to explode out of its meager constraints at any moment. Stiletto heeled boots left her tall enough to look him in the eye as she brushed ringlets of dark curls out of her face. Her lips were painted pink and were glossy enough to rival the slick sheen on her dress.

“Are you here about the plumbing?” she’d asked.

“Oh, no, ma'am.” He was trying not to stare at any particular part of her for too long. Where there wasn't bare skin, there was tight leather. She was sexually suggestive from head to toe. The only safe harbor for him was in her eyes, which reminded him of strong coffee with just a touch of cream.

She cocked her head, the wheels obviously turning in her mind. He'd gotten that look a lot since coming to town, usually followed by an inquiry as to where he was from or guesses to that effect and apparently, a majority of people from Philadelphia thought only people from Texas used the term “ma'am”. Second up was Montana and someone actually thought he was foreign.

Instead of asking or commenting on the matter of his origins, she merely replied, “Well, I have a feeling you're here for _something_.”

“Yes, ma'am. That I am.” He nodded eagerly.

She smiled uncomfortably, prodding gently, “And that would be...?”

“I was hoping to speak to the manager. I have a few questions I'd like to ask.” Parker immediately wondered if he sounded too much like a cop. So far, he'd played the part of Kelly's concerned relative or friend, nothing more.

“Sorry, she's indisposed at the moment, but I might be able to help you....”

Parker was back to the present, sitting in a pew. Her cleavage was hidden away. All the dark hair was twisted up and off her slender neck. She was still gorgeous. Not like the beauties found on magazine covers, but more like the faces found in fine art exhibits.

He didn’t question her. He merely sat in silence beside her, rather fearful that he'd say something foolish. That was what he seemed to do best most of the time. Once again, he was wondering what Lonnie or Bubba would do. Lonnie could just be himself and intrigue her with his quiet, unpretentious confidence. Bubba could do the same, just be himself. The former football star, a little rough around the edges, oozing with good looks. Women liked the idea of polishing up the edges and keeping a man like Bubba. They liked the idea of getting inside to find out what made a man like Lonnie tick. They preferred to just tell Parker to shut up or mind his own business.

Parker knew he wasn't mysterious. He wasn't good looking. He talked too much. Got distracted too easily. Like now, he realized.

“I lied to you earlier.” He didn’t comment, so she continued, “I just felt bad about getting James into trouble. The cops came and they asked all sorts of questions. I knew him, I knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone. They started talking about drugs and money... I wasn’t going to turn him in for something trivial like that. So I kept my mouth shut.”

She added, “Then you came knocking. I didn’t know the whole story. After awhile, I felt guilty.” Taking a deep breath she admitted, “That’s why I’m here.”

Parker confessed, “I don’t really understand the drug laws in this country myself. Murderers are out before dealers and that just doesn't make sense.”

She continued, “Some of what I said was true. He’d give me a little extra money to check in on his sister, she'd been sick for quite awhile. Anyway, we got close. She told me their parents had left them a cottage on a lake. With medical bills piling up, James used his bag of tricks to get the place under the radar, so no one would know about it and try to take it from them.”

Parker was wondering where she was heading with all this when she said, “You'll probably find him there.”

“This cottage, was it where they grew up?” he asked.

“Doubt it, Lori was definitely a city girl. Think they spent their weekends there, so it’s probably pretty close.” She looked nervously at her watch. “That's all I can tell you.”

He stood and stepped aside to let her out into the aisle. Instead of just walking away, she turned to him, unbearably close considering the crush he was developing on her. He suddenly worried that his attraction to her was why he was trusting her so much, perhaps too much. She choose the right words at just the right moment, saying, “I wish you the best of luck.”

He returned her gaze, knowing the toughest road lay ahead. “Think I’m gonna need a vacation after this vacation.”

The eerie silence of the church was broken by a passing garbage truck. It covered what little sound the suppressed 9mm made from the shadows.

Marissa screamed, “Johnny, you asshole! You almost shot me too!” She gingerly stepped over the limp body at her feet. “If you’d gotten blood on these shoes....”


	2. Chapter 2

Althea kept glancing at the clock, impatiently kicking her leg as she sat stiffly, waiting. If not looking at the clock on Nida's living room wall, she was glancing at the phone on the end table next to her.  _If he doesn’t call by quarter after, I’m calling._ She didn't put much stock in a woman's intuition, but she was always a proponent of good old common sense. Some things just reeked of trouble.

She kept her word and Bill Gillespie received an early morning phone call.

“He didn’t say anything about who this person was?” Bill asked. “Who he thought it _might_ be?”

“Nothing. He said a woman called and asked to meet him. That’s it. I know where this place is. Where his motel is. He shouldn’t have been away this long. I’m worried. Really worried.”

“Now don’t you worry about ol’ Parker. He’s got nine lives like a cat. It’s all that curiosity they have in common.”

The haste with which Bill ended their conversation told Althea that the old man wasn't entirely buying his own assurances. She returned the earpiece to its cradle hoping, more like praying, that it would ring immediately in that dramatic way it did in the movies as she began to walk away. It didn't.

xxxxxxxxxx

Johnny slid into the backseat and watched with an expression of contempt as the driver shut the door after him. He hated the limo. It was too flashy, but Marissa loved it.

Marissa was laying belly down in the seat in front of him. Kicking her feet in the air, reading a magazine and sipping a Diet Coke through a straw. She didn't spill a drop as the limo lurched forward to blend into passing traffic.

Unimpressed by the driver's skill, Johnny asked harshly, “How much do we pay this chump?”

Marissa only shrugged and turned the page. He leaned forward and plucked the magazine out from under her. He only glanced at the article title. Something about Paris and fur. He tossed it aside.

“Hey, I was reading that,” she huffed at him, sitting up. Dark hair tumbled down and partially covered her plunging neckline. The dress had cost Johnny a fortune and she had many more, not for her benefit, but for his. Keeping up appearances was crucial.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart. You’re so good at acting smart, why don’t you play the part permanently.” His smile was wicked, as usual.

“Sounding that smart takes a lot of effort,” she pouted, grabbing to get her magazine back.

Johnny laughed. She’d insulted herself and was too stupid to even know it. He peered out the darkly tinted windows, smiling more casually. He took pleasure in hurting others, even in the smallest way. That included hurting her. As a kid, they had tried to tell him that his own low self-esteem made him want to demean others.

Bullshit. Some people just deserved it. He was better than them. There was nothing wrong with his self-esteem. He was his own biggest fan.

He felt the limo come to a stop as the intercom came on. “We’ve arrived, sir,” announced the driver.

Johnny rummaged through his pockets and tossed a few items onto the seat next to him. He preened himself briefly and got out, deliberately ignoring his ditzy girlfriend. “Don't be nice to them,” he'd once advised a friend. “The worse you treat them, the more determined they are that they can change you like nobody else can. The nastier you are, the harder they try.” They'd both gotten a good laugh, because it was so damn true.

Meanwhile, Marissa took advantage of being alone and quickly grabbed up the items Johnny had discarded. She recognized one as Johnny’s and tossed it aside. The next was new to her. It was a simple leather wallet. She opened it and quickly scanned the contents. The third sent sickening wings to beating and fluttering in her stomach. Not butterflies, more like big black buzzards. It was a badge. A real one, not a knock off.

After tossing it all back, she turned on the small television and rummaged through a dorm sized refrigerator beneath it. Before she'd even made a selection for herself, the limo's door opened and Johnny burst in. He dropped onto the backseat with a snort, too irritated to give the driver his usual glare. He stewed for a moment, then barked over the intercom where to go next. Barking orders at Marissa too, he grunted, “Beer.”

Refrigerator door still open, Marissa obeyed, even opening the bottle for him.

Beer in hand, Johnny offered no thank you, just more orders, “I want you to keep your mouth shut on this one. _Really_ keep it shut. He was a cop.”

She feigned disbelief, as if she hadn't peeked already. “No way, he was just a nosey hillbilly.”

“Yes, way,” he mocked. “Guys lifted this.” He held up the badge. “Guess our girl ran home to Mississippi. That’s why this guy was up here snooping around.”

“Why’d you go and kill him, Johnny? Now we’re really in trouble.” She wrapped bare arms around a thinly covered mid-drift as if only now she were cold.

“Stop with the whining. If he’d poked around enough, he’d have placed you at the scene.”

She hadn’t bothered to look through the peep hole before trying to leave the Manager’s apartment. The whole thing had left her rattled and she had just wanted out. Johnny had beaten the elderly woman, even though she’d obviously told him everything. The poor woman had no reason to protect a tenant with her life.

Marissa hadn’t been there to stop it. By the time she’d arrived, the woman was already dead, probably from a stroke or a heart attack. Everything she’d shared with the southern officer was information that Johnny had gotten out of the old lady that day.

Telling the cop about the cottage had been a way to stall for time. Johnny failed to see it that way. He had snarled, “You shouldn’t have told him all that shit,” before backhanding her across the face.

Nothing she did ever pleased him, but she knew the real basis for his rage. Even with all this new information, he still hadn't been able to track down his prey and he was running out of time.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill continued to call Parker’s cell phone through the night. He hesitated to call the local authorities because he didn’t want them knowing what they were up to. The boy very well could have come across something and just not been able to contact them. Bill didn’t want to botch what might be in the works, but by morning, he’d decided that there was definitely something wrong. He contacted the authorities and then called the station.

“Sure, Chief. I’ll take care of it.” Luann hung up and thought, _Call Parker until I reach him? I thought he was on vacation._

Meanwhile, back in Philadelphia, Johnny was sitting across from Marissa in an almost empty bar. Employees were gearing up for the lunch crowd.

Marissa looked up and flashed a huge smile at a lovely blonde. The blonde smiled back and slid into the booth next to her.

“Don’t even start with the girlie talk,” Johnny said with annoyance.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the blonde replied with a sneer. She knew a woman hater when she saw one. Johnny was a classic.

Johnny replied bluntly, “Blair is getting anxious.”

“What’s the word?” Everything, including the way she spoke and stared coldly at the man across from her, said these were still waters that ran deep. Seemingly a polar opposite to Marissa.

“Simple,” Johnny said, “find out where Kelly is and get out.” He hesitated, then asked, “They give you everything you need?”

“Yes, I believe I’m fully informed. I just need my orders. What if you find Kelly first?”

“Probably won’t happen, but just split if we do.”

“What if she doesn’t know anything?”

Johnny made the motion of pulling a trigger, like he was a cowboy in a bad western, squint and all.

Marissa shrieked, “Johnny! She’s got two kids, if she knew something, she’d have said so by now.” Marissa turned to the blonde and pleaded, “Lauren, you’ve read up on this. Don’t you think so too?”

“It’s not my job to agree or disagree. I merely do as I’m told... and what I’m paid to do,” Lauren replied.

“Don’t listen to her,” Johnny said to Lauren. “These two were screwin’, now Kelly's waiting out there for her with all this cash. She won’t give him up. Kids or no kids.”

Marissa glared at Johnny and spat, “Tell her how you know they were _screwin_ ’.”

Lauren really didn’t want to know. She had a job to do, but she listened anyway.

“Kelly’s buddy at the law firm says Kelly told him all about it. Guess they were going at it pretty good too.” Johnny added with a laugh, “Sounds like she's _talented_.”

“I wouldn’t trust that guy,” Marissa snorted, more to Lauren than Johnny.

“Why would he lie?” Johnny barked. He didn't know the guy real well, but he wasn't going to let a couple of stupid broads tell him a guy wasn't trustworthy. He'd trust anything with a dick over these two any day. Women, you couldn't trust them and it was a pain in the ass to kill them.

Marissa's rebuttal wasn't elegant, but it was true and fittingly snide, “Um... oh yeah, people lie all the time.”

Lauren interrupted, “Who is this _buddy_ , exactly?”

Johnny's smile reminded Lauren of a shark. “This is the guy who told us we might be interested in hiring Kelly for a little work on the side. Guess he wanted to score some points with us.” He shrugged, not entirely sure of exact details. He had people who dealt with guys like this. He was upper management, after all.

“Anyway, Kelly and this guy were sharing the shrink.” He added for his own amusement, “Maybe they _shared_ her in more ways than one....” He let his lurid smile say the rest.

He'd seen a picture of her. He wouldn't have passed up a free ride, though he would have gotten more of a thrill throwing her away. He loved that look on their faces when they were discarded without a second thought. Some women didn't care, but the classy ones always got that look in their eyes. He only kept Marissa around to fill in the dull in-between times.

A waitress arrived, interrupting Johnny's bad jokes, to deliver the drinks the couple had ordered before Lauren's arrival. The waitress quickly moved to catch up, asking Lauren, “Anything I can get you?”

Lauren replied simply, “No, thank you. I'm not staying.”

Johnny savored a good half of his mixed drink before saying, “I figure this guy thought he needed to throw us a bone after his buddy ran out with our cash.” The man snickered at his own cleverness before he'd even uttered the words, “What's a better bone than to find out Kelly's giving his bone to the shrink and she might lead us right to him.”

Adding it as an afterthought, Johnny said, “The putz was probably afraid we’d off him for the fun of it.”

“Were you going to?” Lauren asked.

“Probably. Might still do it,” Johnny replied coolly. “He knows too much and he talks too much. At least Kelly kept his mouth shut.” After finishing the rest of his drink in a few gulps, he asked, “When are you leaving?”

“Immediately. I’ll keep our contact to a minimum. Things are too hot with the trial,” Lauren answered.

“You got that right,” Johnny grunted, motioning the waitress that he was going to need another drink.

xxxxxxxxxx

The chief sat at his desk in his private office. He’d closed the door. He’d been keeping a lid on Parker’s disappearance, until now.

Bubba paced anxiously as he said, “So you sent him up there alone.” It wasn’t a question. His temper was already on simmer and someone had turned up the heat.

“I had no reason to believe he couldn’t handle this,” Bill replied.

“No reason? Chief, this is Parka’ we’re talkin’ 'bout.”

“He’s a good man.”

“I know, but....” Bubba paused, trying to keep his temper in check. _Just count to ten. Just count to ten and cool off, alright. One... two..._ “Dammit, this is Parka’!” he growled.

Bill slammed his hands on his desk and stood up. “Sit down!” he bellowed, pointing to a chair.

Bubba looked sheepish and planted his rear where the chief told him to.

“Don’t think for one minute that this isn’t killing me too,” the chief admitted. “But what’s done is done. We have to focus on what we can do about it now.”

Bubba nodded in reluctant agreement. “What’s the plan?”

“Quite honestly, I don’t have one. The authorities have been of no help. They searched the church and found shell casings, yet no blood... and no body. They’ve checked all recent John Does. Nothing has panned out.”

Bill continued, “I told them nothing about our connection with Blair’s case. So they’re taking this as a missing persons, so we won’t get much attention. I’ve talked directly to Capt. Phillips as well, his boys brought Althea down here. He said he’d take a look into it, but so far, he's found nothing.”

“Chief,” Bubba said, with the tone of brutal honesty. “I don’t wanna’ go up there lookin’ for his corpse. I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’ll be doin’.”

The chief understood and replied, “Parker went there for a reason. That torch passes to you now.”

Bubba stood slowly, as if he'd packed on a year or two of age in just the past few minutes. Perhaps the seriousness of the task at hand was weighing him down. The old man was right, the torch was passed. Now everybody was depending on him and he wasn't sure he was the right man for the job. A lot had changed. He had changed. It had been a long time since he'd saved the day and he wasn't feeling so heroic these days.

“I’ll have Luann get you on the earliest flight possible.”

Bubba was already headed for the door. By the time he got there, he'd already considered all his travel options, because there weren't many for a town like Sparta, with such a small municipal airport. There would be no direct flight. He either had an hour drive to Jackson or he was looking at getting squeezed into one of the death traps that flew in and out of the Sparta airport. He hated to fly in big planes. He hated flying in tiny ones even more.

Bill stopped him by saying, “I'm incredibly partial to Althea, the same as you are, but don't do anything foolish. She wouldn't want that.”

Filling the doorway to the chief's office, Bubba made for an imposing figure. One that made Bill feel a little better. Trouble seemed to follow the boy like a four o'clock shadow on a sunny day, but he always seemed able to weather it. There was just something about him. Luck maybe. Stubbornness.

Perhaps Bubba liked trouble as much as it seemed to like him, because he smirked and said, “So, who’s gonna come lookin’ for me when I get knocked upside the head and thrown in a riva'.”

“Nobody! I can't spare anymore people,” Bill growled. “So you'd better make sure it doesn't happen.”

The smirk grew a tad more playful as Bubba drawled, “Yes, sir. I'll keep that in mind.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Matt stood at the counter, while the motel clerk pumped him for information. He answered every question like he was exactly who he pretended to be.

Lauren was waiting at the car, watching through the large window looking into the motel lobby. She wondered if the young clerk was so talkative because she was a gossip or if it was due to Matt’s good looks. His job required him to be fit, that was probably a plus as well.

Finally, the man pretending to be her husband returned from the lobby. “Room 109.” He offered her the key with a smile. She gave him a quick peck on the lips for effect. She hoped it would rub the motel clerk the wrong way.

Matt grinned. “I think I’ll like this new assignment.”

“Grab the bags, honey buns,” she teased.

“Yes, my goddess. Your wish is my command.”

A few moments later, she used the key and opened the motel room door for him. Sharing a room was nothing new to them. They’d been partners in crime many times over the years. They had a very professional relationship and nothing more, except friendship.

“How’d it go with the clerk,” Lauren asked.

“Couldn’t have gone better. Don’t think I’ve ever meet a woman who was such a nib shit.”

“Hopefully, the whole town is like that.”

Lauren had learned the business from her father. One of the biggest lessons he had taught her was to hide in plain sight. They were now playing the part of a young couple from New England. They had come to town, while on vacation, to do some genealogy research for her mother. Lauren thanked this latest craze for giving her the perfect excuse to ask millions of questions and take photos of anything and everything in the tiny Mississippi town.

“Don’t know about you, but I could crash for a few hours,” Matt said, popping open his suitcase.

“Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she replied. A timetable for events was already forming in her mind. She could squeeze in a nap now, before the massive boulder started rolling downhill and couldn't be stopped.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bubba collapsed onto his bed at the motel. The same motel where Parker had stayed. The final leg of the journey that brought him here had grated on his nerves like all flights did. He was too big and too short tempered to be trapped in a tin can with wings, thousands of feet in the air. He tried not to think about having to make the trip back.

He laid there, hoping to catch a brief nap, but he was too anxious. The clock was ticking for too many people. He dragged himself off the bed and into the shower.

Only an hour later, he arrived at the precinct of one Capt. Phillips. The chief had given Bubba no specific orders. He was on his own, he could play this out however he saw fit.

After asking around, he ended up on the third floor. A uniformed officer pointed him towards one of the other two officers he had been looking for. As he approached his target, he noted the officer behind the desk looked too young to be off the streets and working as a detective.

Bubba startled the younger man as he plopped down in the chair next to his desk. He flipped out his I.D. and said, “Capt. Skinner, Sparta P.D.”

Bubba watched as the boy swallowed hard. He’d tried not to come off too gruffly, but he certainly wasn’t there for a tea party.

“Bet you want to talk to Phillips,” the young man said. Vesker had dark hair and a tan complexion that would have normally made his blue eyes pop, but he had tired lids that drooped and concealed his irises too much. He looked perpetually tired, or perhaps stoned. The rest of him was nondescript. Average all the way around.

“Wouldn't mind talkin' to you first,” Bubba admitted.

Vesker took on a deer-in-the-headlights look for a moment.

Bubba smirked slightly, but it was his dark eyes that really smiled. “You always this jumpy?”

“Not... _usually_.” Sure the guy was big, but Vesker had wrestled bigger suspects to the ground. Of course, this guy was heavier muscled than the drunk bikers and wife beaters he was thinking of, but it was actually the hat that scared the detective most. Any guy who would wear that in the heart of Philadelphia was either crazy or mean or both. He certainly looked capable of defending himself or his hat if need be. He had heard that cowboy types were obsessed with their hats.

Before long, Bubba found himself sitting across from Capt. Phillips in his office. Phillips looked the part. Square jawed and fit. Salt and pepper hair cropped short and spiked. The two officers involved in Althea’s case stood off to the side, looking loyal to their commander.

Bubba had already met Vesker and had decided he was a good kid. His partner was another matter. Roberts reminded him of a used car salesman in a low budget late night commercial. Bubba tried not to judge him by appearances. The man hadn’t said or done anything to prove himself one way or the other. Perhaps he just seemed abnormal next to run-of-the-mill Vesker. A little overweight, unkempt and badly dressed.

“As I told your chief, our hands are pretty much tied. We’re not allowed to go after anyone associated with Blair. If they slug a little old lady in front of twenty people, maybe. But nothing that isn’t cut and dry. They’re dragging every little tidbit of dirt into that courtroom and it’s working,” Phillips said.

He continued, “I know what I’d do if I were in your shoes, looking for a lost man, so you won’t be getting any trouble. At least, not from this office.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Bubba said. “But I’m not lookin’ for trouble. I just want this settled.”

“I think we can be of some help,” Roberts added. “But you didn’t hear any of this from us.” He handed Bubba a thick folder.

Roberts continued, “Blair has a lot of women on his payroll. He’s an equal opportunity scum bag. But none of them really fit this sort of thing. So we kept digging and came up with her.”

“More like a him and a her,” Vesker added. “Johnny Vegas and his girl, Marissa. Not written in stone, but we’re pretty sure they’re behind it. What ever _it_ was exactly.”

“We found 9mm shell casings at the scene. That’s Johnny’s weapon of choice. Plus, Christ Church is in his part of town. Even better, witnesses spotted a limo in the area. Marissa likes to travel in style,” Vesker explained.

Roberts took over again, “We checked him out a little. He says him and his girl were hanging out at a club and just ended up in the area. They’ve got witnesses to back up their stories, but they aren’t exactly trustworthy.”

“Where can I find these two?” Bubba asked, still skimming the file.

Capt. Phillips finally stepped in again. “Unless you want to go into the viper’s nest, you’ll just have to check his haunts from time to time. It’s all there. You can keep it. Just a copy. Against policy, but I’ve been getting used to saying “screw policy” these days.”

Bubba decided to test the waters. “Is it the Blair trial or the leaks or both, that got ya’ so riled?”

Phillips laughed and motioned to Roberts, “You’d get along with this guy.”

Roberts held up his hands in defense, “Hey, somebody’s got to ask the tough questions.” He turned his attention to Bubba. “With your rank, I’m guessing your boss actually appreciates you. I, on the other hand....”

“I appreciate you, it’s _my_ boss that doesn’t,” Phillips corrected.

“A guy can only get passed up for a promotion so many times before he gives up and lives in his own little world. Now, I just do the crap nobody else wants to do. Hell, I got nothing to lose.” Roberts turned his attention back to Bubba, offering the big man a smirk. “If you need any help on this, give me a call. Unofficially, of course.” He continued, “Know she didn’t like me, but I don’t like the idea of Peterson being in hiding for the rest of her life.”

Bubba pondered Roberts' words for a moment. “Peterson”most of all. Things really had changed... and he hadn't even had a chance to see her before he left. First, she was here and he was there. Now he was here and she was there, as if they were never meant to see each other again, forever playing this little game. Maybe that was for the best. He wouldn't have known what to say.

He could list a thousand reasons why she should cut him out of her life. They had nothing in common now. A continued friendship with him would have just caused unnecessary tension in an already broken marriage. The rumors had just kept circulating. Philadelphia was a long way and it had been a long time. On and on. Yet, he didn't have one single reason as to why she actually did cut him out of her life. He could guess, but he didn't know. Did he really want to know?

Someone knocked on the door. A moment later the newcomer was motioning for Roberts to come out. “My adoring fans await. Later,” Roberts said, closing the door behind him.

Phillips leaned forward on his desk and confessed, “When the leaks became a serious problem, his head was the first up to be chopped off.” He was obviously referring to Roberts. “You were probably thinking the same thing.”

“Try not to judge, but it did occur to me,” Bubba admitted.

“He’s got every right to be fed up. The guy just dated the wrong girl, the daughter of the wrong person, at the wrong time. They’ve had it out for him ever since. Now he just does things to annoy them. Acts like an odd ball. But he loves the job and does it well.”

“Got any idea who’s really leaking all this information?” Bubba asked.

Vesker spoke up, “Scary thing is, we don’t think it’s just one... or two... we’ve got a serious problem.”

“Now you know why you’re really on your own. This department has become a nightmare. You’re safer without us,” Phillips admitted.

Nearly an hour later, Bubba was making his way down the stairs to the ground floor. The meeting with Phillips had not left him optimistic. He heard someone call from behind him, “Hey, wait up.”

Bubba turned to find Vesker taking the stairs down two at a time behind him. “Just wanted you to know, I’m in too. Roberts is a good man, but he’s got a rep around town. If you need somebody a little more low key, I’m your guy.”

“I don’t want ya gettin’ yourself into trouble, son.”

Vesker waved away the other man's concerns. There was something paternal about the big guy and he wanted to work with him. Vesker was too old for catch in the backyard or learning how to shave, but he still had a lot to learn about being a cop. He hadn't become a detective so young by ignoring good opportunities when they came along and unlike a lot of guys on the force, he didn't have anyone in his family to turn to. “If you want to find Vegas and fast, I can help. How about tonight? We hit some of the hot spots?”

“Guess I gotta’ start somewhere.”

Vesker looked the captain up and down.

Feeling self-conscious Bubba asked, “What?”

The young city cop shook his head. “Um... do you have anything a little more... well, that isn’t so....”

Bubba wiped the hat off his head and suggested, “Easy to spot in a crowd?”

Vesker confessed, “You know, at first, you scared the hell out of me... and that's pretty damn embarrassing, considering my line of work.” He nodded approvingly. “But you're alright.” He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and headed down the steps at a lively trot.

Following, Bubba smiled a bit to himself. At least one person in this town thought he was alright.

Vesker assured, “We'll figure something out.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Bubba stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The aging commercial grade white tiles reminded him of the ones that mocked him as he was forced to wait in the dentist's chair. He moved to get up and his head throbbed. The dentist often tortured him, but not quite like this. It had been a long time, but he hadn't forgotten the classic symptoms of a hangover.

“Boy, you’re too old to drink like that,” he mumbled, making his way to the bathroom. In truth, feeling the way he did, he was convinced that there had never been a time in his life when he should have ever drank like that.

He didn’t like the looks of himself in the mirror. Washing his hands, he noticed a burning sensation. He studied his knuckles and suddenly remembered the loud mouthed jerk he’d knocked out the night before. Not good, but he knew how the system usually worked, because he was part of it. If the cops hadn't shown up then, they weren't likely going to now.

He always packed a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers, so he left the bathroom to retrieve it from his bag. Meanwhile, he reminded himself that the other guy had started it and he'd finished it, as the old saying went. Well, technically, Vesker had started it, but not intentionally. If the other guy hadn't been so drunk, things wouldn't have escalated.

Not wanting to see the kid get hurt, Bubba had finished it. People thought he was so lucky almost always being the biggest guy in the crowd, but if a man was worth his salt, it meant he had to jump in more times than not. Taking a fist in the face was always better than getting that why-didn't-you-do-something look.

He was opening the bottle of pills when his phone rang. “Skinner,“ he growled.

“It's Roberts. You always this chipper in the morning?”

“Only when my skull’s about to crack open like a melon.”

“Yeah, Vesker told me about your little adventure. Is she still there?”

“Who?” The moment the word passed his lips, Bubba felt a knot of dread forming in a stomach that was already upset enough as it was. _She?_ Women, no matter who, when, where or how seemed to always mean trouble for him... eventually.

“Man, you get laid and you don’t even remember. You must have been seriously wasted.”

Bubba groaned inwardly before daring to scan the room slowly. He knew he was alone now, but had he been all night? Was there any proof here that he hadn't been alone?

He hadn’t been that drunk. Or had he? He wouldn't have slept with a total stranger. Or would he? If the opportunity presented itself? With his present state of mind? His life wasn't going so well right now. Hadn't been going well for some time.

Roberts burst into roaring laughter. “Oh man, I had your ass going!”

It began as a growl, but trailed off lightly, “I’m so gonna’ kick your ass.” He was too relieved to stay angry.

“Sorry, man, I just had to. Vesker said you were trashed.” Not bashful about voicing how impressed he was, Roberts continued, “I’m definitely taking you out clubbing with me. He said you are the serious chick magnet. They were just lining up. You've got to show me how you do that.”

“I think my clubbin' days are ova’.” The words themselves seemed so foreign coming out of his mouth that he now understood how he'd gotten into so much trouble the night before. “Clubbing” and men like him just did not mix. Ever.

“Going to die with your secrets, huh. Don't blame you... but now it's time to get serious.” Roberts paused for a moment, as if the still groggy captain might need to shift gears. “I might have something for you. Our buddy Johnny is having one of his poker games tonight. I can give you a time and a place.”

No gear shifting necessary, Bubba warned, “Sounds a little too convenient.”

“My thoughts exactly, so if you want to take the chance... or don’t... it’s cool. It's your hide.”

“My hide ain't worth much,” Bubba reasoned before taking down the information Roberts had to share.

Robert's voice took on a more serious tone, “Just be careful, these guys won’t just be dealing cards, but dealing in some serious lead. If you get into trouble, call us. And watch your back.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Lauren picked a busy truck stop for a late lunch. They’d been driving around most of the morning and early afternoon. Just getting a feel for the place. Deciding which way to approach their task at hand.

“I can feel the heartburn already,” Matt joked, sitting down across from her.

Lauren was taking in the crowd. It was just as she’d hoped, more gabbing than eating.

After a waitress took their order, Lauren took out her map and began going over the agenda for the rest of the day. It really was their agenda, she was just leaving out the part about killing people.

She cast out the hook and quickly reeled in a fish. “You folks must be from out-of-town,” someone at the table next to them said.

“Yes, we are,” she replied back politely. She folded the map and put it away. It had just served its main purpose, getting them labeled as lost and hapless outsiders. She'd use the kindness and trusting nature of these people against them. In such dangerous times, with the media screaming that blood thirsty killers hid behind every bush, people were still incredibly trusting.

They continued to attract the attention of the patrons at the next table, as a different man turned his chair to face her. He was in his sixties and everything about him suggested he was a farmer. Rough looking hands fumbled with the brim of a beat up green cap emblazoned with the easily recognizable John Deere logo. “Where y’all from?” he asked, glancing from the pretty blonde to her dark complexioned tablemate.

“Maine,” replied Matt.

“Boy, now that’s a ways,” the farmer's friend replied, determined to keep himself in the conversation that he himself had actually started earlier.

“Ain’t it though... this here’s Pete. I’m Ned. Pleasure to meet ya,” the farmer said.

“Likewise,” Matt replied. Lauren merely nodded sweetly.

The food was far better than they’d expected and the conversation gave them both a great deal of insight into the community. They talked mostly among themselves, but louder tidbits were being shared between the rest of the patrons. Someone had brought home a new baby. Someone was getting married. The football team was going to have another lousy season for sure.

Lauren and Matt were about to pay the check when someone asked loudly, “What’s up downtown?”

“The mayor’s affair is old news, Bobby,” someone stated loudly back.

“There’s no proof he’s havin’ an affair,” added someone else.

“No. Not the mayor,” someone corrected. “The cops.”

“What about ‘em?”

“I know what’s wrong, Parker’s gone and all the gossip has dried up. Bobby don’t like it.”

Lauren heard snickering coming from around the room. This seemed interesting.

“Ain’t it odd that Parker left town to go on vacation and nobody’s heard from him?” This was the first feminine voice to chime in.

“That ain’t the odd part.” They were back to listening to a masculine voice with a southern accent thicker than the others. That was something Lauren had found charming since her arrival. There seemed to be no set in stone accent to be found in Sparta, as if the place were its own little melding pot of missing g's and r's, sprinkled with its own slang and run together phrases. “Tell ‘em, Mary.”

“My daughter works at the airport. She said Luann called. She needed to get Bubba up to Philadelphia somehow... All she could do was send him to Atlanta....”

Apparently, one person didn't want the details of Bubba's travel plans, interrupting, “Ain’t that where Parker went? Philadelphia?”

“Yep, that’s what my daughter said, but he left lookin' a lot happier than Bubba did.” She added as if it were an after thought, “Everybody knows Bubba hates to fly.”

“The plot thickens,” somebody yelled. The room burst into laughter.

A new face walked through the door and said, “Oh dear lord, Mary. What are they into now?”

Mary replied, “There’s somethin' goin’ on in the police department.”

The newcomer seemed most certain of all, announcing, “Tell ya what’s goin’ on, Parker’s on vacation and Bubba’s gone to see his girlfriend.”

The whole room went silent in a way it hadn't before, catching Lauren's attention. True or not, the newcomer had dropped the biggest bombshell since the gossiping had begun and she took note of it for future reference. Meanwhile, the same voice continued, “Oh, y’all know it’s true. He’s had the hots for Tibbs’ wife since... well, it’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, it's been a long time,” someone mocked from where they nursed a cup of coffee at the counter. “Althea Tibbs has been gone for years. Whatever it was, it's over now and has been for some time.”

“I don’t see what she ever saw in him.” For the first time, an older woman spoke up from a booth she shared with what one would suspect were her grandchildren.

“You lost me, Lois,” Mary replied.

“You know exactly what I mean.” The grandmother sounded smug, as if the act of gossiping was actually beneath her, but she'd join in, just to get the facts straight, of course. “It’s true what he said, he’s just got it backwards. She was chasin’ _him_.”

“Lois, you’re just jealous that he wasn't chasing _you_ ,” someone snorted, ignoring the presence of her grandchildren.

Lois blushed deeply, “I am not! I just don’t think a man should be walkin’ around lettin’ women swoon all over him.”

“Sounds like fun to me!” someone in the back yelled.

Lauren listened, trying not to laugh with the rest of them. Despite the humor of the situation, seeing so many grown adults, both men and women, chattering away, she didn't lose sight of her goal. She took mental note of what she had heard, despite having doubts that a highly educated and accomplished woman like Althea Tibbs, now Peterson, would associate with anyone from a small hick town named Bubba. Exactly what did a Bubba look like anyway? How did someone end up with a name like that?

 _Oh, what the hell._ She asked and she was promptly answered as the townsfolk humored her as the newcomer. She walked away with the ability to describe this particular Bubba in better detail than was probably necessary, but nobody, so far, could agree on how he came by that name or even what his real name was. Everyone claimed they knew for a fact what his name was, yet all of them, but one perhaps, had to be wrong.

xxxxxxxxxx

The game had just started and Johnny was off to a bad start. The atmosphere was depressing. Every player around the table was in his line of work and everyone was feeling the heat from the impending Blair trial.

Vegas was about to throw down the worst hand he’d had yet, when his phone rang. Cursing went up around the table. No phones or beepers allowed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Johnny said, as he picked up.

“Is that anyway to talk to a lady?” Lauren asked with a hint of real anger.

“What do you want?” Suddenly his hopes were up, “You find her?”

“No, but I’m giving you a heads up. You’ve got another cop in your midst.”

“What?”

For a moment, Lauren wondered if using “midst” had actually brought on Johnny's grunted question. Not really caring, she pushed on, “Word down here is that a cop is headed up there. Probably going to pay you a visit. Doesn’t sound like a friendly sort of guy when he’s pissed off.”

“Who is he?”

“Name’s Skinner. Probably about Nigel’s size. White, dark hair, dark eyes... add the accent. Hard to miss. And a real looker, but not pretty.” Lauren smiled, wondering if she'd made homophobic Johnny twinge. Even something this innocent would send him into a seizure sometimes.

One of the other card players snorted, “You gonna’ play or what?”

“Shut the hell up!” Vegas turned his attention back to Lauren, “When will he be here?”

“Already there, from what I’ve heard. Watch your back, they say he’s good.” Lauren hung up the phone with a big grin on her face. She loathed Johnny and deep down, hoped this cop either offed him or threw him in the joint for good. If not for Marissa, she’d have probably taken him out for her own personal pleasure. Not that it would be difficult to find someone to offer her money to do it. Johnny had a long list of enemies.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bubba had stretched himself across the front two seats of his small rental car. His attention was directed to a simple brick duplex down the street. Johnny’s poker game obviously hadn’t started yet. The major players were still arriving. They were hard to miss, reminding Bubba of peacocks, flaunting their wares. Arriving in fancy cars, getting out with beautiful women on their arms.

Between arrivals, Bubba passed the time doing some people watching. As the hour grew later, the people going by weren’t the type you’d want to look at for long.

He leaned back and pondered the whole situation. He felt like he was stuck in some sort of dream. A dream bordering on a nightmare. He was starting to feel like he was no longer himself. His drinking binge the night before was unusual for him. Not to mention that he actually felt a twinge of regret for not taking a strange woman to bed with him, when he'd had the chance.

This city was changing him. Why? He rubbed his eyes, as the answer came to him. The man who boarded a flight to Philadelphia was not the man who set foot in another dirty city years ago. He hadn’t been that man in a long time. Now that he was here, he gladly took the new life this city was pushing off on him. He didn’t like himself much anymore and he seized the chance to be someone else. He grew tired of always being the good guy and that, in turn, made him feel guilty. But who could really blame him.

In the end, the good guy always got screwed. It had happened to him. It had happened to Parker. He stopped there, knowing he couldn't think about that. For now, he'd just stay focused on finding a missing friend. _Missing_. That was all. He was in no condition to imagine anything else. He had to man up, because he hadn't had the nerve to do it before and tell the chief that he should really send someone else.

He shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable. He avoided looking into the side-mirror. There was a slim chance he'd see himself and there it would be, staring back at him. Proof he shouldn't be here. He hadn’t shaved and his hair was crazed. Before leaving the motel, he’d noticed new bruises, with no memory of how he got them. Maybe he had been  _that_ drunk after all.

Bubba turned his attention back to the duplex. He didn’t want to think about this now. He’d kept count as players arrived. He was pretty sure the game was now on.  _Now to start my own game out here and try not to get killed._

His original plan had been a desperate one. To follow Johnny after the poker game and just hope for a chance to nab him. Something else had come to mind as he’d seen Marissa come and go over the past couple of hours. It only reinforced the feeling that he was spiraling down into self-destruction, because the little angel sitting on his shoulder wasn't even talking to him anymore. He was sitting there, wings drooping, arms crossed, just shaking his head sadly. _It's finally happened. He's lost his mind._

Bubba started the car and drove around the block. He parked out of sight around the corner. He only hoped Marissa would stick to her routine.

He got out of the car and slipped into a holster that would keep his Colt .45 snug under his arm. He suddenly realized that he wouldn’t be able to attempt this insane plan if it weren’t for the young detective.  _Thanks a lot, Vesker. Ya just couldn’t leave it alone._ Looking like something that fell off the hick train, he would have never gotten close enough to do this without a little fashion advice.

Vesker had shown up at his doorstep the night before with a mystery box. He’d refused to take the southern cop anywhere until Bubba had toned himself down. Later, Bubba found himself looking in the mirror and asking, “Now how is this toned down?”

“You’ll fit right in,” Vesker had reassured him.

_And that’s the problem_ , Bubba thought.  _I’m fittin' in too much._ He concealed the Colt under a black leather jacket. It was long enough to allow him to hide his back-up weapon in the small of his back if he chose to do so. For now, he tried his black harness boots.  _That’ll do_ , he thought and secured the holster for his snub nose revolver inside. The simple clip on the side of the holster made it incredibly versatile.

Bubba did a final nervous check of his revolver and quickly slipped it inside the holster. He pulled down his pant leg and was relieved that it all worked as he'd hoped. Next he checked his much larger Colt and holstered it. He slipped an extra magazine and speed loader into his coat pocket. Loose rounds would make too much noise.

_If this isn’t enough ammo for ya, boy, you’ve probably gotten yourself dug into a grave anyhow._

He locked the car and walked away. The last thing he needed was the car to be gone when he got back.

He headed up the street towards the duplex. Finding a dark spot to stay out of sight, he leaned back and waited patiently. Right on schedule, she walked by, smoking a cigarette. She either didn’t care for the company or they didn’t care for her habit. More likely, the former was the case, because the tobacco smoke was more pungent than most. It was a blend or brand he wasn't familiar with. Likely expensive, that seemed to be her thing.

She either didn’t see him or didn’t care that he was there.

He didn’t like what he was about to do. It could cost him his job or more likely, get him tossed in a cell, especially if it went out of control. It wasn’t like him.  _It’s just like me. Stupid and risky. Yeah, mostly just stupid._

She was traveling faster than he’d anticipated, so he needed to get going. He glanced up to the starless sky and thought,  _You do rememba' I’m one of the good guys, right?_ No answer. “I’m gonna burn in hell for this one,” he muttered and fell in line behind the younger woman.

She came to a stop at the corner. After stamping out her cigarette, she stood with her hand on her hip in annoyance.

As he came closer to her, he was surprised to hear her say, “Stalking a girl is no way to get laid.”

“I’ll rememba’ that,” he said with a smirk, unable to deny that there was something appealing about her aura of nonchalance. A strength.

She barely had time to smile at the sound of his accent before he was grabbing her by the arm and shoving a gun in her side.

If she’d gone wide eyed with fear, he’d have just given up. Maybe even given her his gun and given her permission to shoot him in the foot. That’s not the response he received.

“What does Len want now?” she snarled at him.

He didn’t answer, because he simply didn't have one.

“You guys are pathetic. You want Johnny, take it up the street!”

Bubba finally growled back, “Yeah, I want Johnny... and you’re gonna’ help me. Now move.”

With the gun still jammed into her ribs, he pushed her down the side street to his waiting car.

“Nice ride,” she sneered.

“Open it up,” he said, tossing her the keys and then kicking her square in the rear.

“Alright, alright.” She gave in reluctantly. Fear still seemed a foreign concept to her. She was obviously pissed off that a man was bossing her around.

As she stood there, passenger side door unlocked and open, he ordered, “Now get in... all the way ova’. You’re drivin’.”

With snorts and huffs of irritation, she slid with difficulty over a bulky console between the driver and passenger seats. She started the car and looked to him, her angry gaze screaming, “Now what, jackass?”

“Straight.” After a few blocks. “Left up here,” he ordered sharply.

After a few moments of silence she asked, “What does Len want?” He didn’t answer and that made her uncomfortable.

Len and Johnny had been feuding for years. Mostly petty stuff that might even be described as very harsh practical jokes. A broken nose here, a smashed up car there. Only the goons took the real brunt, so Len and Johnny had a good time with it.

“In there,” Bubba said, motioning into a restaurant parking lot. It was after hours and the lot was empty. He wasn’t worried that a patrol car would spot them. He was going to make this fast.

“Sure, I had a light lunch, but I’m still not hungry,” she said in smart-ass fashion as she parked and killed the engine.

He didn’t respond.

She cocked her head slightly and said, “Well, you don’t dress out of a dumpster, so I guess you can’t be one of Len’s boys after all.”

“Shud'up,” he growled.

She looked away in temporary surrender. She needed time to think. Very few knew that Marissa was the main reason Johnny had managed to get into power and stay in power within Blair’s organization. She played the dimwit, not only for Johnny’s benefit, but for her own safety.

She knew the faces of every player in town. Nothing happened without her knowing about it, no matter what team was playing.

She went to work analyzing the situation. The sooner she knew who he was and what he wanted, the sooner she could get herself out of trouble. She wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him or stab him, if given the chance. She packed the weapons to do either, easily.

He wasn’t local, she’d know him. There was a slim chance he was new in town. People came and went from the city every hour of every day. Some wanting to get lost, some wanting to be found, some wanting to make some quick money... or collect a little vengeance. That was a variable she couldn’t control or work with, she skipped it.

She looked him up and down, not concerned about letting him see her do it. She was thinking to herself, s _outhern accent._ Philly wasn’t a hot spot for those fleeing from the south.  _The gun... safety is on... pointed away just a little._ That seemed odd. Sure, she seemed harmless enough and goons were a lot dumber than people realized. She'd heard so many stories of them accidently shooting themselves. Idiots.

She’d sized him up before even getting into the car. _6’3 or 4. Good shape._ Even wearing a jacket, she had noticed how well he filled out the black t-shirt underneath. That had kept her from doing what she’d first considered, elbowing him in the gut and running like mad. She’d never got a clear shot to kick him in the jewels or really do much else, now that she thought about it. Maybe that had been intentional. Maybe he knew what to expect.

She was inching toward her gun, a tiny .22 Magnum.  _Hired muscle? A pro from out of town?_ She felt like she almost had the pieces together. She kept coming back to his accent. She didn’t want to shoot someone with a voice like that. It would be a crime. She could almost hear that final piece clicking into place.

She felt all the color seep out of her face.  _I almost shot a cop._

He noticed an obvious change in her, as she glanced around as if looking for someone. “Did anyone follow us?”

“Doubt it.” He’d decided to play along. For the first time, she looked unnerved and he wondered if it would prove to be to his advantage.

“Well, I don’t like sitting here, so I’ll make this quick.” Her head still swiveled as she admitted, “I sent someone looking for you today.”

He was taken by surprise. He’d read in the file that she was slow, but a little looney?

“Do you mind?” she asked, putting her hand on the key still in the ignition.

“Go ahead,” he grunted, humoring her.

They drove for a few blocks, while she kept a close eye on the rearview mirror. Seeing that they seemed to be putting only more distance between them and Johnny, Bubba continued to play along. He was willing to go along for awhile, but he wasn't about to forget that she could be up to something. Was likely up to something.

Bubba finally said, “It would appear that you think you know me.”

“I know all about you. Sparta cop looking for another Sparta cop. Am I right?”

Marissa didn’t take her eyes off the road, but she knew she’d surprised him. Another uneasy silence had filled the car.

Bubba composed himself. “So, you sent somebody looking for me to get me out of the way too,” he stated bluntly.

“Oh, I want you both out of my way, just not like that. It’s coming up on the left here. You might as well put that away,” she said, referring to his weapon.

“I think I’ll keep it,” he growled.

“Suit yourself.” She parked the car and shut off the engine. “Well, you coming?”

“Good way to get my head blown off,” Bubba mumbled. He was pondering his next move.

“He’s here,” Marissa admitted in annoyance.

“Who?”

“Your friend.”

His expression was skeptical. She added, “You know, friendly, blabs a lot, loves pork rinds and nacho cheese dip... which is really disgusting.”


	3. Chapter 3

Marissa knocked on the door. He had every reason to be scrambling out of bed, gun in hand, so she knocked again and said, “It’s like 3 o’clock in the morning. The streets are crawling with weirdos, let me in already... and I’m not alone, but he’s cool.”

She heard the clatter of dead bolts being released. The door opened a crack. She began to push her way in and abruptly stopped. She looked him up and down. “Do you always answer the door without pants?”

“The lady’s askin’ a reasonable question there, Parka’,” Bubba teased, as he holstered his weapon. He had come prepared for a trap, but that scenario was looking less likely. Parker was alive and apparently well enough, looking like he'd just crawled out of bed, with his hair disheveled and wearing a rumpled black t-shirt and boxer shorts.

“Bubba? Hey, it is you! What are you doin’ here?”

“Wha'd'ya think,” he growled. “Ya up and disappeared on us.”

Parker grimaced slightly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Sorry?” Bubba sucked in an angry breath, instead of spewing out something he'd regret. He considered his words and finally said, “It wasn't exactly easy findin' you... and everybody's upset.” His voice softened. “Mz. Tibbs especially.”

“Peterson,” Parker corrected.

Bubba didn't care, he was too busy tossing a disapproving scowl in Marissa's direction, still not sure what to make of her and this whole situation. He didn't want to say too much about Althea in front of this woman.

He looked back to Parker and scrutinized him a bit. “You alright? Ya in one piece?”

The apartment was clean, but small. Together, the two men filled what little space could have been considered a foyer. Parker shrugged off the question. “I’m alright. My back’s still sore. Reminds me of when I got kicked by a cow when I was a kid....”

Before Parker could launch into childhood memories, knowing all too well from experience that he didn't want to know how Parker had agitated a cow, Bubba quickly interrupted, “You should see a doctor. Kevlar’s good, but a slug can still bruise ya up pretty good.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a believer.” Parker smiled. “Seriously, I’m OK. Now if he’d been packin’ more than a 9mm... wait, how did you know about... did she tell you?”

For the first time, Bubba managed a real smile. “Com’on, son, don’t ya watch the movies. It’s always a vest.”

Parker grinned back, about to add his two cents, when Marissa interrupted, “Guys, your reunion is touching and all, but we’ve got things to discuss... and hopefully everyone will be wearing pants.” She’d finally made herself comfortable at the small kitchen table, making it clear that it was time to get down to the business at hand.

Parker blushed. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Bubba watched his friend disappear into what he assumed was the apartment's sole bedroom. With a moment to finally reflect, the truth hit him hard. Parker wasn't dead. He was really alive and well and his usual jovial self.

Tension and fear had been his puppet master all this time, moving him around clumsily. Stiff and rigid, going through the motions. With the anxiety gone, he was ready to crumple to the ground like a discarded marionette. He had been playing the denial game since he'd left Sparta. His first gut reaction to Parker's disappearance was that the worst had happened and that fear had never abated. It had been with him all this time, trying to claw up through the layer of hope and optimism he'd laid down to suppress it.

With dawn about to break, he was bypassing another night of sleep. He'd caught a few hours the previous morning, recovering from a night of boozing it up like he hadn't done in decades. Then he'd gone and pushed himself to the brink, abducting the girl. He had abused his body and his nerves. They were all screaming for a respite, but he couldn't grant one. Not yet.

Now that he'd found Parker, he was coming out of one nightmare and slipping into another. He had just abducted someone at gunpoint. Parker wasn't the one in trouble now. He was. Not to mention, he had now fallen into another mystery.

A pivotal part of that mystery locked her gaze on him and said softly, “You look tired.”

 _You look tired._ It didn't exactly sound like what an angry woman would say. A woman outraged by what he had done. Maybe she was used to being roughed up and would accept it, but she shouldn't. It didn't make things right.

Forcing his weary muscles to work, Bubba joined her at the kitchen table. As he sat down, the chair creaked a warning under him, not constructed for someone quite so heavy.

The brunette watched him as he shifted uneasily, testing things. She teased, “Do I need to get you a big boy chair?”

He offered her a weak smile, finally accepting her for the friend she claimed to be. He was too tired not to and he certainly couldn't keep her at a distance forever. Parker had already declared her friend, not foe. It was futile to bar the windows if Parker was just going to open the front door wide and invite her in.

The captain came back to the small dilemma at hand, which was the chair. “This'll be fine.” The big dilemma was never going to be fine. He couldn't take back what he had done.

Marissa sprung up and searched through the refrigerator and then the kitchen cabinets. “Don’t know about you two, but I’m starving. How about some chow?”

“Just as long as it isn’t pizza. Please!” came a muffled reply from the back of the apartment.

Marissa looked that direction with a perplexed expression on her face.

“The chief says he's got ears like a jack rabbit,” Bubba explained.

She smiled at the mental image that brought to mind, then set about looking for a phone book. She'd checked every cabinet and found the place pretty much bare.

Bubba leaned forward onto the table and caught her gaze with his before saying, “I don't know exactly what's goin' on here, but you’ve obviously been lookin' out for him and I’m grateful.”

Marissa, phone to her ear with the intention of getting something delivered, flashed the small town cop a smile. A soft one that suggested she wasn't used to having her actions appreciated. Meanwhile, her call was being connected, so she turned away and rattled off an order. Done, she hung up. Looking back to him, she asked, “Good choice? Not many places open all night anymore. This city isn't what it used to be.”

“I have no idea what any of that was. Guess I’ll just be surprised.”

Marissa couldn’t let it go. What he’d said, how he’d said it. He was taken aback as she remarked, “You... Parker... you're refreshing. We don't get many like you around here.” The tough girl act was melting away.

He couldn't help thinking it was probably for the best that she didn't meet many like him. “You like gettin' dragged 'round by a stranga', while he points a gun at ya?” Bubba asked. He made a point to look right at her. It was time to find out what his punishment was going to be, because in the end, it was up to her.

“Well, when a guy’s doing it to help his friend, I tend to overlook the petty little details.” She waved it off with a grin. When he didn’t smile back, she took her old seat and leaned in close. She remembered that jack rabbit ears were listening. “Take it from me, handsome, life isn’t black and white. It's just good guys versus the bad guys and sometimes the line in-between has to be blurred a bit. I know all about breaking eggs to make an omelet.”

She watched as he looked away. He seemed reluctant to accept that life couldn't always be a tidy one hour drama where the bad guy always got caught and the boy and the girl always lived happily ever after. She reminded, “It’s not about making the ethical choice, that's kids' stuff. Don't lie. Don't steal. Don't hurt people. Eat your vegetables.” She concluded with the hard truth, “It’s about making the _right_ choice and having the balls to take the heat that follows.”

Bubba’s gaze shifted back to her and his eyes narrowed as he pondered the woman that sat across from him. She was certainly not the same woman he’d met on the street. “You aren’t what you appear to be,” he stated flatly.

“Bing. Bing. Bing. You win a prize,” Marissa teased. “I’ll buy you dinner... well, more of a really early breakfast.”

Parker walked out of the bedroom just in time to hear her continue, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast with  _two_ men I barely know before. If this was a sleazy motel, I’d be feeling a little naughty right now... just a little.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Johnny tossed down his best hand of the night. Things were looking up for him. In his usual cocky fashion, he was going to take this turn of luck to mean he could worry about the cop later. He felt untouchable, not that it mattered anyway. He’d take this guy out as easily as he had the first one.

His cell phone began to ring again.

“Johnny, you asshole. Get rid of that damn thing or I’m gonna’...,” threatened a voice from across the table.

Johnny flipped him off as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. He snorted into it, “This had better be good.”

“Think you got trouble, Johnny,” said a familiar voice on the other end.

“What kind of trouble?” Condescension tinged his question. He treated everyone like a fool. There wasn't trouble until he said there was trouble. He wouldn't have taken someone's word that the sky was blue, until he'd looked up and made certain of it for himself.

“Worst kind, a woman... _your_ woman.”

“Christ! What’s she done now?” Vegas realized he hadn’t seen Marissa since the game started.

“I tell you this, we’re even.”

“We’ll see,” Vegas growled skeptically.

“We’re even.” The voice on the other end wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Alright. Alright. We’ll call it even.”

“I see your girl gettin’ grabbed off the street out front.” This brought Johnny forward in his chair, tightening up like a spring, ready to jump up and hit someone. Sure he treated Marissa like chattel, but that was the point. The girl was his property. Nobody took anything from him. Nobody.

The voice continued, “Thought it was one of Len’s goons. Didn’t get a good look. I follow them and end up on the east side. They get out and Marissa seems cool. He’s not. He’s ready to go in like the Marines.”

“In where?” Vegas interrupted.

“That’s the best part. It’s that dump she owns down here. I'm looking at it right now. Ugly blue complex.”

“Shit,” Vegas muttered.

“Think she’s turned on ya, Johnny. I just don’t know to who. He isn’t with Len. I know Len’s type. My first guess... he’s a cop.”

Johnny’s eyes widened and he began to sweat. His luck of the evening seemed to have run out in the blink of an eye. “Describe him.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker couldn’t help but wonder what the chief would think if he walked through the door at that very moment. To his right, sat the lovely organized crime princess, dressed like a high dollar hooker. To his left, sat his best friend, looking like a bizarro world version of himself. Bubba wore too much leather, too much stubble and a weary, dark expression on his face.

Not that he had much room to talk. Unable to return to his motel room for his things, playing the part of the dead man, he’d been reduced to wearing what Marissa had rummaged up for him from the corner thrift shop. He wasn’t sure if he should be on the golf course or if he should be sitting through Bingo at the local old folks home. An almost pink polo shirt clashed with seventies style khaki pants that were a bit too short. At least the hiking boots fit.

The meal had been excellent and the conversation light. It had only grown serious for a few minutes before Bubba bluntly asked, “So, who do you work for? DEA? FBI?”

She replied, “I work for the bureau. Been under for three years now.”

Bubba looked to Parker and asked, “You knew all this?”

Parker grinned. “Yeah, it came up in conversation.”

Turning his attention back to Marissa, Bubba asked with concern, “All three years with Johnny?”

“You make him out to be a criminal or something,” she joked.

“Three years is a long time.” The way he said it expressed so much more. _You deserve better. This is no place for a lady. What was your boss thinking letting you do this?_ He was obviously the old fashioned type. Both men were and she was fighting hard not to develop a crush on either one of them. Bubba with his heart melting brown eyes. One would think, after what had happened, that he hid a dark bad boy streak, but those eyes gave him away. Then there was Parker, with his big heart and blazingly sunny disposition. She had to keep reminding herself that she had an assignment to finish.

She sighed, “Comes with the job.”

“He eva’ hurt you?” Bubba had noticed very faint scars on her face. All consistent with injuries from a beating or perhaps a series of them. He had many of the same scars himself.

“Like I said, comes with the job.”

“You eva’ gonna’ get out?” Bubba asked. There was that fatherly tone again. Parker didn't help as he looked on, letting dark clouds roll over his usually chipper expression. He didn't approve of any of this either. They barely knew her and they were already trying to protect her.

She took a sip of tap water, giving her time to decide whether she should confide in these two. It was written all over them that they could be trusted. It was more than trust. She didn't know if she could handle being judged by them or worse, they'd manage to talk some sense into her. She was no fool. She knew the system was using her. Knew it had dropped the ball and she was paying the price. More and more, she was the egg in the omelet. She knew it, but to have either of these two say it...

She finally put the glass down on the table and admitted, “I was supposed to be out a long time ago. Thanks to the incompetence of local authorities, it’s taken this long to take Blair.”

Parker spoke up, “I know the trial isn’t going well now, but surely they thought they had a solid case in the beginning. Why didn’t you get out then?” They had talked, but not deeply about any of this.

Marissa pushed dark hair out of her face, but her hand lingered, like she might be coming down with a migraine. “They wanted somebody on the inside during the power struggle. After everything settled down, I was to be provided a way out.”

“And now?” Bubba asked, hoping for an answer he'd like, but feeling in his gut that he wouldn't get it. He didn't like any of this. Folks could call him a dinosaur all they wanted, he didn't care. This was no assignment for a woman. Not that she couldn't do it. She just shouldn't have to.

“I don’t really know anymore,” she admitted. “If Blair is set free, he’s going to come back more paranoid than ever. It'll be harder than ever to get someone inside. I don’t know what he’ll do... what the bureau will do. Not to mention that I’ve got to get back inside after all _this_. I'm not finished here, that's for certain. ”

“You’ve only been gone a few hours,” Bubba reasoned.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Marissa replied, sharing a knowing glance with Parker.

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker returned to the table after retrieving a cup of coffee and said, “So, let’s start at the beginning. How’d you two meet up?”

Bubba wanted to change the subject and fast, “Nah, the beginning is telling me how you ended up here.”

Parker quickly explained that he hadn’t received one mysterious phone call, but two. The second was a warning of events to come.

Bubba could barely believe what he was hearing. He shook his head the way he always did when he started wondering what was going on in Parker's head. “So, you just went along with this plan of hers? With no clue who she really was?”

Parker looked sheepish. “Wasn’t much else I could do. It made sense and I just... felt that I could trust her.”

Bubba looked to Marissa, wondering if that pretty face and those big brown eyes had anything to do with it. He chastised, “You could have gotten him killed. All Johnny had to do was shoot high or low, or the vest could have failed....”

Marissa was apologetic as she responded, “I didn’t want this to happen and don’t think for a second that I didn’t consider the risks. I told him he didn’t have to do it.”

She thought back to that night and told Bubba the story. Johnny had blind sided her with his plan to kill the meddling hick who’d shown up unexpectedly during their search for James Kelly. When she’d failed to talk her boyfriend out of it, she’d went along with little other choice.

Under the pretense of changing her clothes, she’d made a hasty second phone call to the number Parker had given her. She’d offered him the chance to back out. He could just leave town, with the information she could give him about Kelly.

She left out the details of the potential trouble that could cause her, but Parker had figured it out for himself and replied, “If I just disappear and suddenly reappear with this guy, your boyfriend's gonna’ know you talked.” After that, Parker refused to expose her, no matter what.

She gave him a location to pick up the vest. She had connections all around the city. The meeting would continue as planned.

Bubba interrupted, “Couldn’t they tell he wasn’t dead? Didn’t they check?”

“I made sure the two we brought along to dispose of the body were in my own personal pocket. I offered them a pretty penny to just mind their own business and dump him in the alley next to the complex here.” She motioned to the north side of the building.

“Johnny’s not on to any of this?” Bubba asked, worried everything just seemed too neat and tidy. Too perfect.

“That’s the nice thing about bad guys. Money and favors are everything to them. A rare few are loyal, but none of them are loyal to a jerk like Johnny. I offer the money and until it runs out, they do as I say.” She smiled an impish little grin that made her look much younger and more innocent than she was, leaving Parker thinking of that old saying about little girls being made of sugar and spice and everything nice.

“I admit, I’m impressed. Of course, I’m still a little mad about him getting shot.” Bubba’s voice was still tinted with anger. He looked between the two of them. Uncrossing his arms, he said, “Guess what’s done is done. Nobody got killed, so we’ll just move on.”

“Sounds good to me,” Parker said jovially, his trademark grin plastered across his cute face again. “Now let’s hear it, how’d you end up here?”

Marissa flashed a devilish smirk and said, “Nobody got killed, so we’ll just move on.”

It was Bubba’s turn to look sheepish as he muttered, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Parker was about to protest when Marissa said, “All joking aside, we  _should_ move on. We’ve got to get this ball rolling to make it believable.”

Bubba looked to Parker and said, “Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling?”

“You need Kelly and I need back in with clean hands, so to speak. This is what I have in mind....” Marissa went through the details.

When she was done, Bubba inquired, “You’re sure he’s there?”

“Yes. Now, are you going to keep your end of the bargain?” Marissa asked.

“Said I’d do it. So, I’ll do it,” Bubba gruffly replied. He didn’t like this, but he felt better knowing it was his neck on the chopping block and not Parker’s.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lauren was up late. The room was dark, except for the faint light from her iBook. She was chatting online with her sister in Michigan.

Her job here was almost done. She’d found her prey and was merely waiting for a chance to take care of the dirty details. She was too energized to sleep. She always was, before a job.

Matt snored loudly behind her and rolled over. She smiled and kept typing.

On a hunch, she’d spent the afternoon following one of the female officers of the Sparta Police Department. It was pure luck that she’d followed the right one. In the late afternoon, she was led to a small farm outside the city limits.

Lauren’s hunch that a female officer would be asked to watch over a woman and two children had paid off. The pretty blonde hadn’t relieved anyone, so they were probably unguarded during the day.

Before logging off, Lauren asked how their mother was. Maybe she’d pay her a visit, since this job would be over soon. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow.

xxxxxxxxxx

The rural location was just as Marissa had described it. The road was seldom traveled. Tufts of weeds grew up through the gravel and open pasture spread out on both sides. Sheep grazed behind a fence on the right. It was a picturesque sight, especially early in the morning.

Marissa was behind the wheel again. She said, “We use this spot all the time.”

Bubba didn’t like it. Johnny’s car was coming into view, parked up ahead. “That stand of trees is a prime spot for somebody packin’ a rifle.”

“If you can find somebody willing to hike through swamp and muck to get to it.”

“I’d do it,” he warned with a grin.

The next few moments went by in silence, both of them hoping in their own way that things went as planned, because if they didn't.... Bad people with guns didn't like being lied to.

Marissa left the Ford rental running after parking it. Driving her own car didn't fit the story they'd hashed out as to what had supposedly befallen her and they didn't have time to find another car. She was fairly certain Johnny wouldn't do the research on the rental car to track down who had actually taken his girlfriend, so Bubba's name and who he really was would likely never be discovered. Johnny would either do the swap and believe the story they told him or he'd try to kill them.

A few car lengths ahead sat a dark Mercedes. Parked at a slant, the luxury car partially blocked the road. Engine apparently off, giving the illusion that Johnny felt in control of the situation. She knew better. He'd be a nervous wreck, but telling himself that he wasn't.

As two men exited the Mercedes, Marissa turned off the Ford’s engine. Johnny had kept his word so far. He was alone, with only his driver. Marissa recognized the driver and it made her uneasy. His specialty was a little more brutal than driving getaway.

“Let’s just get this ova’ with,” Bubba grumbled. They’d gone over the plan already, but he still felt uncomfortable about it. He’d wanted to protest the whole thing long and hard, but he quickly realized it was the only way to keep Marissa safe. She was going back into the organization, with or without their help.

He pulled his Colt and checked the safety. He didn’t like the idea, but Marissa had insisted that he keep a round in the chamber and the safety off. She didn’t want him left vulnerable if Johnny didn’t keep his word. That was a real and dangerous possibility.

He grabbed Marissa by the arm and pulled her out of the car, eerily similar to the night before, just in reverse. Keeping the gun pressed against her side, he jerked her around roughly. She struggled with him, trying to pull away.

Vegas wasted no time. Glaring at Bubba, he growled, “Who the hell are you?”

Bubba jerked Marissa's arm and growled back, “I’ll be askin’ the questions.” It took no effort for him to play the part. The man in front of him just had that effect on him. Johnny was a squinty eyed weasel. Thinning hair, pale sickly complexion. A soft body that had never seen a day of hard work. Pudgy hands to match that worked nervously in and out of his pockets.

Johnny Vegas turned his attention to Marissa. “You stupid bitch. What did you tell him?”

Marissa spat back, “I didn’t tell him anything. How could I? You never tell me anything.”

“You got that right, you stupid slut. You think I don’t know about you and Len. You think I’m blind. Sneaking around. Now this!”

Marissa started to sweat even more. Things were going in a direction she hadn’t expected and really didn’t understand. This was the sort of situation she had feared most. Johnny was a control freak. The moment he felt the reigns were slipping out of his hands, he'd lash out violently to reclaim them.

Johnny’s rage was growing. “I get it now. You rat me out, so Len and you can go off and fuck all you want.”

“I didn’t rat you out!”

“Really... I know a guy who would say otherwise. You ratted me out for Len, that scrawny little piece of shit. How long you been fuckin' him?” Johnny's shrill voice popped up a painful octave more, “How long?! Behind my fucking back... after all I've done for you.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Bubba had been a cop for a long time. With all those years came a special sixth sense. An ability to look into someone’s eyes and know when they were going to run, or start shooting, or perhaps mow you down with their car. He didn’t like what he saw in Johnny’s eyes and certainly didn’t like how he said  _rat_ . Johnny knew something.

Marissa had her own sixth sense. Honed on the tough streets of Philadelphia for several years now. She knew she’d walked into trouble. Before she could even consider a solution, she saw movement. The driver was in motion, probably going for a gun.

Things happened so fast, she was on the ground before her mind had really registered that she was falling. A primal reaction was all that told her arms to move. She barely broke her fall as gravel seemed to race towards her face. As the air was knocked out of her lungs, she heard what sounded like a cannon go off next to her head. After that, all other sounds were strangely muffled. More shots? Maybe.

Adrenaline was what dragged air back into her lungs, as she imagined Johnny walking up to finish her off. Glancing towards the Mercedes, wondering from where he'd be coming, she didn’t immediately know what she was looking at. Everything was sideways and alien to her. Each item was easy to identify solely, but her mind couldn't connect the pieces. Car door. Tire. Grass. Blue sky. White fence.

Marissa struggled to get up onto one elbow and with the world right side up again, she realized that both the driver and Johnny were down. She was startled by a voice behind her saying, “...alright?” Between her mind struggling to connect the dots and the god-awful ringing in her ears, she hadn't caught the beginning of whatever Bubba had said to her.

He was sitting up behind her, his gun still trained untrustingly on the apparently dead driver. There was a grimace on his face that she couldn't blame him for having. His brown eyes seemed frozen in an angry squint, as if so irritated they'd made it come to this that he'd eagerly shoot the two men again.

Things were making more sense to her now. “So _you_ knocked me down,” she said, struggling to get up. Certain parts didn't immediately want to work with other parts, proof that the sudden fall had twisted her out of shape a little. As long as the other two were motionless lumps in the grass, she'd dare to take a moment. She needed to get her bearings and her breath.

“Sorry,” Bubba grunted.

Marissa smiled at him, brushing herself off. “Better than getting shot, any day.”

“I’ll rememba’ that,” Bubba muttered as he slipped his free hand out from under his jacket. Neither one of them could miss the blood, such a stark shade of red. He cut her off before she could say anything, “Check ‘em. Been shot once already, don’t want shot again. Here.” He held out his gun, grip first.

Even though the .45 wasn't her caliber of choice, she was comfortable with it and more than capable of using it. She slipped the clip out and counted the remaining rounds, then hastily slammed the magazine home. She had counted two angry looking self-defense rounds with the classic hollow to their tips. One was, no doubt, still in the chamber. Each, not incredibly difficult to place in a torso at this range, could easily prove fatal.

It was her turn to hope for a chance to shoot them again. She had considered all the possible conclusions to the swap and getting Bubba killed was the very worst. Coming in second to last was almost as bad. She could only hope that his injury wasn't serious.

She quickly went to Johnny. One look confirmed he was dead. She still kicked his weapon away. The gun spun across stones and then tumbled into the ditch. At some point, Johnny had pulled the weapon with the intention of using it and she'd missed it.

She turned her attention to the driver. After checking for a pulse, she gave him up for dead as well. She kicked his Uzi out of reach, then turned her attention back to Bubba.

He had managed to get up before she could tell him not to, uttering only one ugly groan and a few mumbled words that his mother would not have approved of. “We’d betta' get goin',” he warned.

“Oh, no. I’m calling the....”

“You see that?” He pointed something out to her, further down the road from them.

At first she didn’t see it, but after a moment she spotted a dust cloud at the crest of a distant hill.

“Nobody’s gone by, so I bet they’re comin’, not goin’.” He'd grown up on a gravel road in rural Mississippi. He wasn't really betting at all. He could even make a decent guess from the way the dust moved in the weak breeze about how fast the vehicle was traveling towards them. Apparently, someone knew they were late to the party.

Marissa considered the vehicle off in the distance, muttering softly, “Shit. Shit... shit... shit.”

“Now you wanna’ go?” he teased, not fighting the assistance she offered, slinging his arm around her shoulders. She seemed to have a plan and he didn't really feel like thinking. His legs felt somehow detached, unwilling to do anything at the speed he told them to. The gravel felt like slippery marbles strewn all over. Of course, he was no fool. The ground was solid, it was him teetering back and forth unsteadily.

Marissa leaned him against the Ford. He was wobbly, but standing and that was good, or so she hoped. Her mind was racing as she looked around for her bag. All she wanted was her phone. To her surprise, she’d left it in the Ford. She’d have left it behind if the trade had gone properly. That seemed so long ago, back when the two of them thought this might actually work.

Meanwhile, she reasoned out-loud, “Johnny’s cleanup crew is  _not_ going to be happy with us. They probably already know you're a cop. I don't think I can salvage this.”

He mumbled good-naturedly, “Well, they got their two corpses. Might be able to toss in a third here in a minute. Ya think they'd be a lil' more pleased 'bout the situation.”

Marissa became deadly serious, “Don’t say that.” Her gaze softened. “I'll be right back.” She didn't want him to think she was leaving without him. She suddenly feared that might be his impression of her. Unable to do her job worth a damn, she'd run off on him.

Clutching her handbag, she raced to the Mercedes. She tossed it inside and looked to the steering column. Luck was with them, the keys were handy in the ignition. A quick peek assured all four tires were intact and nothing was leaking, for now.

She raced back, noticing how long every little action took. Seconds ticked by. She took his arm over her shoulder as before. She didn't think it was her imagination that he seemed heavier. He was relying on her more.

Not wanting to think about that or how close their adversaries were getting, she choose to talk instead. Keeping her mind off things she couldn't do anything about, like time. “What the hell happened? All I saw was the driver start to move and bam. I’m eating dirt.”

The Mercedes seemed a million miles away. She knew it really wasn't. She knew she'd get better handling and speed out of it. Maybe even buy a little time if their pursuers thought for just a moment it was Johnny driving away. The blood darkening Bubba's shirt was proof the other side had gotten off a few rounds. One of which had punched through the body of the Ford above one of the front tires. She didn't have time to inspect the rental for damage. She just had to play it safe and assume any number of horrible things had or could happen under the hood.

Bubba sounded tired as he explained, “Guess Johnny decided to end your relationship the hard way... he had a bead on ya. Sorry, I couldn't be gentla' 'bout things.”

“I didn’t see him....”

“He was bein' pretty sneaky 'bout it,” Bubba said.

She shook her head. “I should have been paying more attention.” She muttered under her breath, “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Popping open the Mercedes' passenger door seemed like such a triumphant milestone. Never had she been so happy to see the fine leather and detailing, especially around the stick on the floor. It screamed speed. She'd get them out of here. She wouldn't settle for less. She owed Bubba too much now to let him down. If only she'd been paying more attention.

Bubba dug deep to do the next part on his own, sliding into the passenger's seat and pulling his legs inside. “He drew, guess that set the driver off and then... well, it went all to hell.” He almost laughed, but it hurt to breathe. It hurt even more now that he was folded up to fit into a seat previously occupied by a much smaller man.

“Johnny drew first,” she sighed, still letting that fact tumble around in her mind.

Bubba thought she was hurt by Johnny’s lack of feelings for her. “Don’t tell me ya feel bad. He was a dirt bag.”

“That’s not what I feel bad about,” she admitted. She took a minute that she wasn’t sure she had to find the source of the growing stain on Bubba's dark t-shirt and do what she could about it. Finding it, she admitted, “This is what I feel bad about.” If Johnny drew first and had a bead on her, the bullet that had torn through Bubba had been meant for her.

She was no doctor, but she knew a bullet between the lower ribs was probably a very bad thing and that's what she was looking at. Some might scoff at Johnny's unimpressive 9mm, but it had certainly punched an ugly enough hole where it counted. The amount of blood oozing out of the wound wasn't substantial, but that didn't matter. What was going on inside did.

It was no flesh wound wide to the outside. It was a good three or four inches in towards the core of his chest. _Nicked_ _his liver maybe? Or his spleen?_ She was too stressed to remember which organ was on the right side of the body, but either scenario was bad _._ The bullet had to have done some damage in there.

Where there wasn't blood, his chest was already damp with sweat instead. His pale face held a blank expression. His eyes seemed on the verge of glazing over to match. She spoke his name and his dark eyes immediately darted to meet her worried gaze, which was a relief.

She slid her hand under his shirt and explored his lower back. Taking the hint he leaned forward slightly. She quickly felt across his mid and upper back. “I don't think it came out.” No large exit wound to contend with was a good thing. He was bleeding enough from the small hole in the front and likely a great deal more on the inside.

He grumbled, “We don’t have time for this.”

“I know,” she sighed in frustration. With nothing else available, she ripped open her blouse and yanked it off. While Bubba watched with wide eyed amusement, she ordered, “Not a word!” She folded the shirt in rather hasty fashion, then handed the shirt and the painful next step over to him, before she slammed the door and darted around the car.

Bubba couldn't manage what really needed to be done. He was too weak and in the wrong position to produce the kind of pressure really necessary to stop the bleeding, but he tried. In truth, he needed someone else doing it for him, applying all their weight against his ribs. Unlike Marissa, he didn't just suspect there was much worse going on in there, he knew it for certain. There was nothing either of them could do, so he spared her the grim details. The overall weakness. The rapid pulse. The vertigo. It seemed so cliché, but he was cold and thirsty, just like dying men always seemed to be in the movies.

After racing around to the driver’s door and getting in, Marissa started the car. “I’m with a man for three years and he tries to kill me. I’m with you for three hours and you save my life.”

He smiled despite the misgivings he had about his own survival. “Nah, more like five or six hours. We’re practically married.”

She could tell his words, though intended to be humorous, came through gritted teeth behind a forced smile. He was doing what he was supposed to, despite how painful it was, applying as much pressure as he could to the hole in his side.

“Hold on,” she said, slipping the car into gear. Surprised to see him drag his seat belt into place with his free hand, she paused briefly to follow his lead. Yeah, it might be a bumpy ride.

xxxxxxxxxx

Nida was folding laundry as she heard the children run down the stairs for the third time. Any other time she’d have sent them outside to work off all that energy. It was a bright and beautiful morning. For now, she was showing a little leniency.  _Just a little_ , she thought, smiling.

“Want me to hog tie them?” Althea asked from the open doorway.

“Nah, let ‘em wear themselves out for awhile.”

After a long pause, Althea started to speak, “Nida, I....”

“Op, op... none of that tone in this house. Won’t have it.”

Althea tried to sound more optimistic, but she wasn’t going to drop the subject she had tried to start. “It’s as if you’re positive that he’s coming back.”

“Oh, I am dear. I am.” Nida smiled warmly, continuing to fold towels. It was nice having company in the house. It gave her an excuse to stay busy. To be useful.

“How do you know?” Althea finally asked.

“I have my ways.” Nida quickly changed the subject. “Bigger question, what are _you_ gonna’ do when they get back?”

Althea stood in silence, with no easy answer to Nida's question. She wanted desperately to have a happy outcome. She just didn’t have Nida’s faith. Didn't think it wise to deny that the worst could happen. Positive thinking was one thing. Blind denial was something else entirely.

Althea turned to go, only half focused on the task of checking on the children. They’d suddenly become too quiet. The rest of her was reeling with uncertainty about the future. Hers and Parker's. She felt guilty thinking about it, but no matter what had happened to Parker and what the outcome would be, her life would have to go on. She had two children to raise.

She moved through the rooms on the first floor and found nothing.  _Where did they get off to? Must be upstairs._ Her mind drifted away again . Nida had asked what  _she_ would do when the two men got back. It seemed odd, until she considered the possibility that the older woman might have caught on to some of her misgivings about their return. Bubba's return in particular. Was it that obvious or was Nida just that gifted at reading people? She had heard stories about the older woman.

It was probably just that obvious. She'd been a lousy friend to Bubba in recent years. When she'd found out he'd been sent to fix the mess she had caused, she was mortified. Even now, she thought, _The chief could have sent someone else. Anyone else!_ It didn't help that it created a whole new fear in her. If something happened to Bubba too...

At the time, keeping Bubba at a safe distance seemed the right thing to do. Leaving her husband and talk of divorce would have sent the local gossips into overdrive if they knew she was still in contact with him. Sparta gossip didn't matter to a woman who didn't live there anymore, but Bubba still had to live in the tiny town. Had to live with the rumors flying.

The truth was, once the lines were severed, it seemed impossible to reconnect them. O utside forces had constantly pulled and pushed, working to tear their friendship apart. They had both bowed under the gail force winds, so as not to crack and splinter, but it was Bubba who swayed the most. He'd get close, then pull back. Always there when she really needed him, only to disappear when she didn't. It was inevitable that he would eventually slip away if she wasn't there tending the lines.

It had been a friendship that ebbed and flowed with the tides. Low, then high. High, then low. She had kept in contact with the other friends she'd left behind, but she'd let her friendship with Bubba slip out to sea. She didn't call. She didn't ask how he was. Now it was time to tow the ship back in, but it had taken on water during the years. She felt one wrong move might cause it to capsize and sink.

She had ascended the stairs and now she paused on the second floor landing. When she'd cast Bubba off, she didn't think it mattered, but now, she really wanted him back. She'd bail water by hand if need be.

A moment later, she swung open the guest bedroom door and there the twins sat, propped up against the end of the bed. Sarah had a stack of photo albums at her side and one in her lap.

Billy noted his mother’s expression and said, “Miss Nida said we should look at them.”

“Yeah, she says you’re in here,” Sarah added, tapping the album in her lap.

Althea sat next to her daughter and watched as she flipped through the pages.

“Hey, there’s dad,” Billy said, pointing Virgil out.

Althea replied, “You’re right. That was a long time ago.” She tried to remember the event, but the memory alluded her. It was obviously something semiformal. The album was an amazing mix of almost every event one could imagine in a small town. Some people she knew. Some people she didn’t.

She spotted herself first and for a moment thought about turning the page. She was far from looking her best. The photo must have been taken days before her twins were born.

“Whoa, mom’s not skinny!” Billy exclaimed.

Caught, Althea laughed, “No, I certainly wasn’t skinny. I couldn’t even drive a car. My belly was too big.”

“I guess Miss Nida really likes to take pictures,” Sarah stated.

“After all these years, I'd forgotten. Every event, there she was.” Althea smiled fondly as she remembered how Nida mingled with the crowd. She never once asked people to pose or even worse, say cheese.

_Surely, everyone else is in here too. Somewhere._ She skimmed page after page. By the end, she’d been able to point out every member of the Sparta P.D. At least, the ones during her time.

One picture caught her attention. Bubba was sitting on top of a picnic table with Parker, which was no surprise. The two were together more often than not and usually quibbling like siblings.

It appeared that Nida had stirred Bubba out of deep thought. He’d acknowledged her with a tired smile.  _What was he thinking about?_ She realized she was running her fingers along the edge of the photo and stopped herself.

“Mom, are we safe here?” Sarah asked.

Thinking the little girl was finally feeling comfortable enough to bring up recent events, Althea reassured her, “We're safer here than we were in Philadelphia... and we can stay as long as we need to.”

The little girl rubbed her arms. She’d broken out in goose bumps. “I wish dad was here.”

Althea almost leapt out of her skin when something rattled on the back porch. Apparently, on some primitive level, she wasn't as certain of their safety as she claimed to be.

She calmed herself, remembering the neighbor’s cat was always sneaking around. “Just that stupid cat,” she told them. Then she heard the sound of breaking glass. “That wasn’t the cat,” she said numbly.

Before she even stood up, she heard Nida roaring at someone. Grabbing the twins by the hands, she ran to the window. It was a straight two story drop. She knew windows opened out onto the front and back porches. As she moved to find one, she heard Nida yelling up the stairs, “False alarm!”

Althea was suddenly relieved beyond words, then instantly angry as a hornet. “What happened?”

“Well, come look for yourself. He’s a sad sight,” Nida replied.

Althea didn’t bother to ask, she just took the stairs two at a time and found herself walking into a kitchen that looked like a disaster. In the very middle, an older man sat dazed. He sat in a sparkling pool of broken glass, but seemed entirely unharmed.

“Drunken idiot,” Nida muttered.

“I ain’t drunk,” he slurred back at her.

“Yes, ya is!” Nida poked him with the broom she was holding.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Althea was too angry to try to figure it out for herself.

The drunken man looked up at Althea and said, “You ain’t my wife! Bitchin’ like my wife, but you ain’t her.”

Althea only rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. She suspected this man would be an ass whether drunk or sober.

“It would appear that Mr. Douglas here has mistaken my domicile for his own.” Nida leaned in close to him, but quickly stepped back. Fanning the stink out of her face, she said, “He’s been testin’ his moonshine again.”

“Should we call the chief?” Althea asked.

“Nah, better just get him out of here. He’s so drunk he won’t remember much. They come out and get him, the whole town will hear about it.”

“How do we get rid of him?”

“Grab that other broom and I’ll show ya,” Nida said with a huge grin.

After a good bristle beating, Mr. Douglas found the energy to get up and stagger out into the yard.

“Does this happen a lot?” Althea asked.

“Actually, it does. But this time I had the door locked, with y’all here. Guess he thought he was locked out and busted the window.”

The twins had been peeking around the corner, enjoying the show. They finally came out of hiding. “Watch the glass, young'uns... so help me, when he’s sober I’m gonna’....” Nida trailed off, since there were children present.

Althea noticed that Sarah still seemed unsettled. “See, sometimes goose bumps are just goose bumps. No harm done. He’s gone.”

Nida stopped sweeping up glass and looking at Sarah, asked, “You get the goose bumps?”

Sarah only nodded. Going back to sweeping, Nida nodded her own head, “Yep, me too. Not the goose bumps mind you, but somethin’ like ‘em.”

Nida finished up. Tossing the debris in the trash, she said, “Now, me and your momma need to have a talk. I’ll fix the winda’ later. You two go entertain yourselves.”

Nida up-righted the kitchen chairs that had been knocked upside down and had a seat in one of them. “Did somethin’ set her off?”

Althea sat with a puzzled expression. Nida elaborated, “Her feelin’? Tell me what happened.”

Althea didn’t go into great detail. When she was done, Nida said, “Don’t like it. Don’t like it one bit.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“You’d better call your friend. With that clean up crew waiting... Johnny was definitely on to us, maybe he’s on to Parker too. I can deal with these jerks for the time being.” Marissa glanced into the rearview mirror, then back to the road.

Bubba took her advice. “It’s ringin’,” he almost whispered. He felt a sinking dread when he heard a familiar click.  _Not the voice mail... com’on._ To his relief , he heard, “Hello?”

“Parka’?”

“Bubba?” The connection wasn't the best. “How’d it go?”

“Not so good.” Bubba felt like he’d made the biggest understatement of his life.

“What happened? Y’all alright?”

“Marissa’s fine. Vegas is dead, but his goons are hot afta' us.” He could currently see them in the side mirror as they weaved behind the vehicle two cars back, hoping to pass. Heavy traffic on the two lane highway presented a few obstacles to keep their pursuers at bay, but those same obstacles prevented Marissa from pulling ahead.

Right now, an eighteen wheeler was making her want to pull the dark curls out of her head in frustration. She needed more time to pass it than their friends needed to pass a car. They were currently at a disadvantage.

“Where ya at?” Parker asked. “I’ll call the locals.”

“Don’t worry 'bout that now, just watch your back. They might be lookin’ for ya. You get Kelly yet?”

“Gettin’ close. Off the beaten path and headin’ up to the lake.”

“Well, grab him and go,” Bubba ordered. Considering every breath hurt, he knew all too well the severity of the situation. “Parka', no foolin' 'round on this one. Grab him and go. Don't trust _anybody_.”

“What about you two?”

Bubba’s mind raced, but an answer alluded him. His side ached and he was too spent to think straight.

Looking to Marissa, Bubba asked, “Boss, what’s the plan?”

“Heading back into Philly... hold on!” The Mercedes made a tight turn onto a larger highway, one she apparently knew well. “I’m going to try to lose them in one of these complexes up here. Some are real labyrinths. We go in, they follow and hopefully, we come back out... without them.”

Bubba watched as sprawling gated communities came into view and went by in a blur. “Can’t we just keep goin'?”

“These guys aren’t going to take this into the city and risk getting caught. They’re just waiting for a chance to get around or spin us out.”

“Maybe Parka’ was right. Call the locals?”

For the first time in miles, she dared take her attention off the road and look at him. He looked awful. Colorless. Sweaty. Blood smeared. “Yeah and if they don’t get us killed, they’ll just let you bleed to death while they try to figure out if we’re really the good guys.”

“I’m not gonna’ bleed to death.” He had forgotten Parker was still on the line. As if he didn't have enough to deal with. _Here it comes,_ he groaned inwardly.

“You didn’t say anything about bleedin’! You always do this...,” Parker growled.

Bubba held the phone out of range to spare his ear. He looked to his busy driver and teased, “Now look what ya did.”

“He cares... turn!” She slammed on the brakes viciously in time to turn. A large sign announced the name of the complex, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. Their pursuers almost missed the turn off, giving Marissa a very slight head start.

The cat and mouse game began immediately. Marissa pushed the powerful luxury car through hard turn after hard turn. She had a growing fear that the engine light would blink on, but it didn’t.

Bubba figured Parker’s tirade was over. He also wanted this conversation to end. Each violent jolt left him sucking air through clenched teeth. His vision was darkening at the edges.

“You still there? Parka’?” He was more afraid now than ever, fearing their connection might have been lost. Right now, all he really had was his oldest friend. He was a stranger in a strange land, starting to really wonder if he might die here.

“Yeah, I’m still here. You tuned me out,” Parker accused.

Bubba grunted, “Yeah, I did. I shouldn't have. Sorry.” He _was_ sorry if this was the way it was going to end.

“Don’t do it again.” Parker was in the serious mode that few ever witnessed. “Now what’s the plan?”

“Well, we’re in the midst of her plan right now. Tryin’ to lose ‘em.” Bubba was mumbling badly and he knew it, but concentrating just wasn't helping.

“That’s her plan?” Parker barked angrily.

“Don’t have much choice,” came the defeated reply.

“Just hold up somewhere and....”

Bubba interrupted him sternly, drawing on some new found reserve, “Don’t worry 'bout us. Get Kelly. Mz. Tibbs is countin’ on ya.” _Peterson_ , he corrected. He was never going to get used to that. He might not have time to get used to that.

There was a short silence as Bubba pondered something. He wasn’t a pessimist, but he believed in facing reality. The phone was beginning to crackle as he said, “Parka’, I’m shot up pretty good. So....”

“Don’t,” Parker tried not to plead. He could tell by Bubba’s tone where this was going. It brought a lump into his throat.

“If I don’t....”

“I’m not listening,” Parker said firmly.

Bubba gave up, cussing softly, “Dammit, Parka’.”

The phone crackled louder than ever and went silent. Parker knew the connection was lost, but he tried anyway. “Bubba?”

Parker tossed his phone into the passenger seat. He'd managed to do enough damage with it already. Bubba's last words ate at him. That wasn't the way a conversation like that should end. Sure, he didn't want to hear it, but he should have never told his friend that he wasn't listening. Coming from a guy who listened too damn much, no less. Especially to things that were none of his damn business. He got a sickening feeling as the weight of it all really hit him. He'd let his friend down. He might not see him again. Might have to call home and... That was not a call he wanted to make.

Just then, the wooded lane he’d been traveling broke open into a lush grass pasture. The lake was gorgeous in the early morning sun, yet it didn’t fill Parker with anything other than a low simmering anger. The man he’d find here had caused all of this. He was tempted to find him and drown him in that calm blue water.

xxxxxxxxxx

Marissa looked in the mirror to see that she’d lost the other car, at least for now.

“Just need a little more space,” she growled as she made the hardest turn yet. She’d finally lost them and wasn't going to waste the opportunity. Without a moment’s hesitation she pulled out of sight, squeezing up between two concrete driveways packed with SUV's and luxury cars. The Mercedes fit right in.

She didn't dare pull any farther ahead, fearful she'd find it hard to get out in a hurry. She just hoped their pursuers didn't choose to pull onto this particular stretch of street to look for them. Didn't happen to look into this particular yard. She prayed hard as she slipped the manual transmission out of gear and waited.

_They either spot us or they don’t_ , she thought. She looked over to find Bubba out cold. He'd gone quiet some time ago, so it was no real surprise. The rough ride had been too much for him.

Fearfully, she called his name, but got no response. With time to kill as they laid low, she unbuckled her seat belt. She leaned over Bubba's limp body and found the controls for the passenger seat. A tiny motor hummed as the seat reclined slowly.

Once again, she said his name and received no response. His quick, shallow breathing was noticeable, so she knew he wasn't gone entirely. She took up what had been his job and put pressure on the wound. He didn't stir, which seemed like a bad sign. She began the painful countdown, making a guess as to how soon it would be safe to attempt to leave. No matter how soon it was, it wouldn't be soon enough to suit her.

xxxxxxxxxx

It was strange how he knew everything was spinning, yet he couldn't see a thing. It was too dark, but something was spinning. No, not spinning. Lurching. Back and forth, working to make him nauseous.

Sound came back to him first. Little distant noises, then louder. Finally, he heard something familiar. A click and then the distinct plink, plink, plink of a turn signal. He was in a car. A fast moving car. One doing a lot of merging in and out of traffic.

Suddenly, the day’s events came crashing back to him. He remembered being shot. Being pursued. Bubba frantically ordered himself to wake up. To come out of it. It wasn't easy. He swam up into a world that grew a little clearer, only to see it turn fuzzy again. Clearer, then fuzzy. Clearer, then fuzzy. Finally, it cleared and only grew clearer. Almost too clear and bright. He raised a hand to shield his eyes. Too tired to even hold his arm aloft, he just laid his left hand across his eyes. He actually felt better now that the worst of the pain in his chest had subsided.

“I thought you were out for good,” Marissa admitted.

Laying prone left him unable to get a good look at her face or to see what was going on outside the car. He croaked weakly, “Lose ‘em?”

“Yep, dirty bastards were thinking the same thing we were. Just got lucky and saw them leaving. We’d have driven right into them down the highway.”

Bubba gave her a questioning glance, but it was indiscernible on his tired, pale face.

Just by luck, she answered his question. “There was another exit, so I took it. Different highway. We should be rid of them.”

“You alright?” he asked. Something was wrong, he just wasn't sharp enough right now to figure it out.

“I'm fine. I’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but I'm fine,” she replied nervously.

If the immediate danger had passed, why was the landscape still whipping by? Why the distinct sound of sudden acceleration to pass? The weaving in and out of traffic? The white knuckle grip she had on the wheel?

He'd been so wrapped up in everything else, he'd honestly forgotten. He was dying. They were past planning and running and they had moved on to her trying to save him.


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m really sorry about all of this. I didn’t mean....”

Parker glared at the much younger man next to him. Kelly was hunched up in a faded blue plastic and metal chair, still wearing the same clothes Parker had found him in. The cop had let Kelly pack up some of his things, not shower or change.

The small fortune that Kelly had escaped with now sat in the trunk of Parker’s rental car. To Parker, after all that had happened, the money seemed trivial. Not enough to warrant this sort of violence. Not enough to risk a life over. Not enough for what it might ultimately cost them.

For Kelly, it hadn't cost anything at all and  Parker was fed up. “You wanna’ apologize to somebody, I suggest you apologize to him.” Parker pointed at a pair of swinging doors that led deeper into the heart of the hospital. He continued, “Oh wait, he won’t hear you. They’re still digging around in him, trying to put him back together.”

Kelly only looked down at his hands in shame, while Marissa touched Parker’s arm. Trying to calm him, she whispered, “It’ll be alright."

“Will it?” Parker asked harshly. Looking at her didn't give him any confidence. She'd cleaned herself up and accepted a shirt a few sizes too large from one of the hospital staff to wear, but she couldn't wash away the exhaustion or the sag of her shoulders. She looked defeated.

Parker stood up and began to pace. There was an edge to the trio's anxiety that didn't fit in, even in a hospital. Several sets of eyes flicked from Parker to other things and back again, then to the tired brunette and back, then to the somber young man who seemed entirely out of place. Parker was too overwhelmed to care.

Thinking out-loud, he said, “I have to call the chief.” His expression grew even more troubled. "They still think I’m dead.” He’d forgotten about that during all the chaos of the past few hours.

Marissa hunched forward in her chair, as if taking a cue from guilt ridden Kelly. “They say I'm a helluva tactician, but I screwed up on this one. I'm sorry.”

She'd found a hair clip in her purse and had pinned her hair up, but shorter curls had escaped. She looked like a tired little girl, her face bathed in a halo of windswept ringlets. “I didn't know then that I could trust the Sparta P.D. I certainly can't trust the Philly cops.” She pushed curls behind her ears and made sure to look Parker in the eye. “I know better now.”

He didn't like seeing the sad, apologetic expression etched into her pretty face. This wasn't just a mea culpa for bad planning.

It was his turn to do the reassuring, “He'll be fine.” From somewhere behind his own tired expression, his bright grin managed to creep out. “Bubba's tough and stubborn. We're both stubborn.” He added, "But he's a lot tougher than I am."

She certainly hoped so, because these two southern cops were quite the pair. One would be lost without the other, that was obvious.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill was stretched out in his favorite overstuffed chair, watching a documentary. It was the first bit of free time he’d had in days. He was getting older and hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on Bubba to keep the department running smoothly.

The rest of his officers did him proud. Lonnie had turned into a fine detective for the force. His two female officers were two of the most decorated women in law enforcement in the state, but Bubba had become his right hand. He dealt with the media and the city council on most occasions. Now Bill was finding out how many times the boy was getting late night phone calls about... well, everything. He felt guilty, wondering if Bubba was doing a bigger percentage of the work of a police chief these days than he was. He was definitely going to have to do something about the situation. Maybe his retirement was going to come sooner rather than later.

_Don’t know what I’d do without him,_ he thought to himself. He would never admit it aloud, but Parker's departure had left a hole as well. Only now was he realizing how much he depended on them both. His thoughts strayed to retirement again.

Harriet had joined him and able to read him like a book, she said, “Your boys’ll be home soon.” She continued to play the optimist, because someone in the house had to.

As if on cue, the phone rang. Bill hesitated to get it. He'd just settled down into his chair. He just wanted a few minutes to himself. Realizing he wasn't going to wish away a problem by just ignoring his phone, he picked up and barked, “Wha'd'ya want?”

Harriet shook her head in disapproval, but still snickered a little. Oh, what a man she had married and he seemed to be getting feistier with age.

“Evenin’, Chief,” came a sunny reply, apparently undeterred by the old man's growling.

“Parker?” The chief was seldom surprised, but even he was caught off guard hearing the younger man's voice. He brought himself forward in his chair, fighting to contain his excitement. Hoping.

“Yes, sir, it’s me.”

All the anxiety of recent days came out as Bill sighed, “Where the hell have you been?” A breath. “You alright?”

Harriet put down her magazine. Beauregard, feeling the change in the atmosphere, hopped into her lap for a good scratch behind the ears. She continued to listen from around the big black dog. He was graying around the muzzle and starting to go blind. Bill wasn't the only one getting older and nearing retirement.

Parker replied, “I’m fine.”

The older man feared that strings were attached, because the boy didn't sound fine. Something was wrong.

“I have good news and I have bad news,” Parker warned.

Bill was used to Parker stalling and for just an instant, he sensed his usual cue to push, but Parker moved ahead without it. “We found Kelly.”

“ _We?_ So you and Bubba met up?”

“Yes, sir. Last night.”

“Why didn’t he call me?”

“That’s the bad news....”

Bill heard Parker take in a deep breath, but this wasn't Parker's usual flair for the dramatic. This was somehow different, so Bill waited.

“Bubba took a bullet a couple of hours ago.” Parker rushed ahead, “He’s alive, but....”

Bill didn't like the sound of that. _But what?_

“He was in really bad shape when they got here. I talked to him on the phone, after it happened. He sounded....” What could he say? Bubba had sounded like he'd given up? He didn't actually know, did he, because he'd told his friend to shut up.

Parker threw blame at someone else for the time being, “You know doctors, they won't tell ya anything.”

Bill's mind was already trying to sort through this new information. “Slow down. What happened? Wait, don’t tell me. I’ll worry about that later.” What was done was done. “You’ve got Kelly?”

“Yep, right here with me.” There was an edge to Parker's voice. He could do without having Kelly around.

“You’d better get him turned over to the authorities. The sooner we’re rid of him, the better. Hopefully, that will solve Althea’s problem.”

Parker couldn’t believe he’d forgotten and said, “Chief... um, we may have two problems.”

“What else?” Bill growled, thinking they already had more than enough trouble on their hands.

“A couple of hired guns are in Sparta right now, looking for Mz. Ti.. _Peterson_. Sorry, Chief. I know I should have called sooner. I just wasn’t thinking.”

Bill sighed deeply, “No one will blame you for being preoccupied under the circumstances.” All business again, he barked, “Do you have names? Descriptions?”

“Can’t get much better than this, the gal here with me pretty much signs their paychecks.”

“I’m not going to ask.” Bill rubbed his face. Althea was in immediate danger. Bubba, even more so.

Parker reasoned, “I’ll call the station and have her talk to them. Be faster that way.”

“Do that. I’ll try to get on a flight up there as soon as I can... and Parker?”

“Yeah, Chief.”

Though he felt awkward saying it, the chief admitted, “I’m glad you’re in one piece, Parker... though you've got a lot of explaining to do.” He added, “I want to get you both home in one piece, so look after Bubba until I get there.”

The conviction to do just that was obvious in Parker's voice, “Yes, sir.”

Even though they were hundreds of miles apart, both men hung up with the same mixed feelings of relief and anxiety. Kelly was now in custody, but would it be enough and what had it cost them?

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker returned to the waiting room and sat down beside Marissa. “Now it’s your turn. You need to call up my department and fill them in on these two friends of yours. Hopefully, we can keep all of this from getting a lot worse.”

Marissa seemed to stare off into space. Parker worried that the staff had given her some sort of news and it wasn't good. He was relieved when she asked, “Is it wrong of me to want to warn them?" She met his worried gaze with a questioning one of her own. "What if I warned them to get out of town? Told them to just forget the job?”

He thought about it a moment and said, “If you're sure they'll go, do it. The last thing Sparta needs right now is a standoff or a shootout. I don't want to see anybody else get hurt."

“I’m sure they’ll go. If the local authorities are onto them, they'll know it's suicide to stay.”

Parker certainly hoped so.

xxxxxxxxxx

Marissa dialed a familiar number. When connected, she said, “Lauren, it’s me. Don’t talk, just listen. The job is off. Vegas is dead and if you stay the cops are going to be looking for you. They know who you are and what you're there to do. It's over.”

There was dead air, but Marissa knew Lauren well enough to hear the wheels turning in the other woman's sharp mind.

“I’m getting out... for good. You’ll know why soon enough. Just know that you really were my friend. That part wasn’t an act. Don’t come back to Philly, just go somewhere... anywhere. Go visit your mom. Stay there.”

A calm, knowing response, as Marissa expected from Lauren, “I'll do that. Take care of yourself, Mar.”

“I will,” she whispered, then quickly slammed the receiver down. She fought back tears. She would never see Lauren again. If she did, it would be behind bars or in a courtroom. She didn’t want that. She knew what the other woman was, but also knew what her father had been and his father before him. Lauren had been slowly molded from birth into what she was. She'd made her father very proud and in the end, wasn't that what every child was expected to strive for?

Marissa understood all too well what it was to try to please a parent. The two women really weren't that different. Perhaps she just wasn't as good at her job as Lauren was at hers or perhaps it had begun to cost her in ways that it hadn't yet for her friend, but Marissa was beginning to see the gapping holes in her father's plans for her.

Her father would have sacrificed Parker. He would have sacrificed Bubba and Althea. He wouldn't have stopped there. The twins would have been expendable too. Then he would have graciously accepted any award the Bureau offered him for meeting all of his objectives. Her father was thorough and effective. Always.

The whole time she was on the phone, she'd held on to a business card. One side gave the name, address and phone number of a local nail salon. She flipped it over and found the number for the Sparta P.D. scrawled on the back.

She believed that handwriting could say a lot about a person. Parker's was pleasant to look at. Bold. Relaxed, but not sloppy.

Her father could claim she wasn't effective, but she was certainly thorough. She was going to call the department as Parker had requested. She was confident the other woman could successfully sneak out of town, but if for some foolish reason Lauren or her partner decided to carry on after all, Parker's people would be expecting them.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lauren wasn't a woman easily disconcerted, but she was uneasy now. It was there, expressed on her face for her partner to see.

“You alright?” Matt asked from the driver’s seat.

Unsure of how deeply they had been compromised, she considered her next actions carefully before saying, “Find me a pay phone.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Their situation was potentially dire, but she still smiled. The locals were rubbing off on him.

After a few minutes, she was using a pay phone in front of a run down gas station. An eighteen wheeler roared by while she punched worn buttons. Her eyes roamed her surroundings for anything or anyone suspicious.

Someone picked up on the other end of the line, but they said nothing.

“Is Vegas dead?” she asked flatly.

“Yes.”

“Marissa?”

“Unknown status.” There was a short pause. “But between us, I think she’s undercover. Rumors are flying.”

Lauren remembered what Marissa had said. Their friendship wasn’t an act. The blonde hung up. If they found out anything about Marissa, it wouldn't be from her. Friends looked out for one another.

She walked back to the car, still watchful.

“So, what’s up?” Matt asked, sensing something unpleasant on the wind as Lauren slid back into the passenger seat.

“You and I have worked together for a long time.” And because of that, they'd be looking for him too.

He grinned, expecting there to be a punchline. “Yeah, that we have.”

“And you’ve never once made a move.”

“A move?” This conversation was making him uneasy. He often wondered if she knew how he felt about her. She was such a polished professional, even if she felt something in return, she wouldn't act upon it. She wasn't a woman who mixed business with pleasure.

She didn't attempt to explain anything to him. Instead, she just asked, “If I got out, out for good, would you come with me?”

“If that’s what you want?” He felt foolish after giving her a question instead of an answer, but she'd always been the captain of their vessel. She'd always been good at it, so he'd never had a reason to question or complain.

She seemed pleased with his answer, even if he wasn't. She suggested softly, “Let’s get out of this town.”

xxxxxxxxxx

The FBI had arrived to collect Kelly and his hoard of stolen cash. Parker watched as Marissa’s conversation with them started to become heated. He considered going over and interrupting, but Marissa seemed to be holding her own.

After almost half an hour, Marissa came back to him. Her expression was grim as she said, “I can’t stay. They’re dragging me off to protective custody.”

Parker replied, “Not a bad idea. You’re not safe here anymore.” He smiled brightly. “Now you’re finally out. They’ll pick your brain and then you can sneak off to a new life in Hawaii or something.”

He imagined her curvy form in a tiny bikini. He added a sandy beach, somewhere tropical and warm, for the backdrop. Minus her troubling past, with nothing other than a bright future ahead of her. He wouldn't have complained a bit if he found himself added to that equation.

She pulled a business card out of her handbag. She said, handing it to him, “They promised that if you call this number, they’ll get the message to me.” She shrugged and sighed, “Of course, the FBI is pretty bad at keeping promises. Just let me know how he is.”

She hugged Parker tightly and was in no hurry to let him go. “Blair might come looking for the two of you someday, so be careful,” she warned.

Parker replied, “We’re not new to the vengeance game. We’ll be alright.” He grew solemn. “You’re the one I’m worried about. You’re retiring right? From all this undercover work?”

Maybe it was his genuine concern, maybe she was finally crashing after all the adrenaline or maybe it was because her old life had officially imploded, but she kissed him. Her initial impressions of him were all wrong. He was an aggressive kisser, pulling her to him, against a body more solid than she had expected. She kissed back, indulging. It was like having her favorite premium flavor after three long years of cheap generic vanilla. She wanted to devour the good stuff while she could.

She found it hard to pull away, but she eventually did. Walking backwards, away from him, she confessed with genuine disappointment, “I finally meet a nice guy...  _two_ nice guys... and I can't keep either one of them.” 

The way she turned and walked away, he knew that she wasn't going to turn around. She didn't want any long goodbyes. He watched her go, disappointed that he'd never know more about her. Wouldn't have a chance to separate the crime princess from the real woman. It dawned on him that he didn't know for certain that Marissa was even her real name. It probably wasn't.

Too agitated to sit down, he began to pace. The kiss and all the exciting possibilities that went with it began to wear off and he was back to worrying about his injured friend. Only now, he was doing it alone. Despair found it easier to creep up on him now that he was alone and vulnerable.

He'd told Marissa that Bubba was tough and stubborn. It was easier to put his full faith in that when she was here, as if he'd challenged his friend to prove it to her. Bubba had yet to ever let him down.

There was no one there to prove anything to now. It was just him and he was more forgiving. He'd seen horrible things during the war. He knew that eventually every man's time was up. Sometimes you just had to tell them it was okay to rest. Send them off to find peace in a better place.

He didn't want to prolong the inevitable, for Bubba's sake, if it was just that, inevitable. All Parker could do was hope that if it came to that, whoever or whatever was up there, would let Bubba now it was time to finally stop being so hardheaded.

He wasn't certain how much time had passed when his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he answered cautiously, aware that reception was horrible inside the large facility.

“I barely know you,” a woman's voice stated coolly and clearly. Maybe someone upstairs _was_ watching.

Parker recognized the voice of his mysterious princess. Though the thought of what might be happening between them had him anything but calm on the inside, he matched her cool tone. “I could say the same about you. I'm not even sure I know your name.”

There was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Mar is fine."

"That's not really an answer."

She was now seductive. "I know." She shifted gears easily, asking, “Are you married?”

“Nope.” He hadn't intended it, but his reply came out with a bold honesty that clashed with her illusive ways just right.

“Kids?”

Parker laughed and said, “Call me old fashioned, but marriage and kids should go together.”

“Are you sure you’re not taken?” she asked with mock disbelief.

He became more flirtatious than ever. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker didn't consider himself all that worldly, but he knew an expensive suit when he saw one. Virgil Tibbs looked the part of the successful big city lawyer, but one that was finally taking a break from the grind. His dark tie was sagging loosely over a starched white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. Even so, he still stood in stark contrast to everyone else in the hospital lounge.

Told that the worst was over for now, Parker had descended into the hospital's tomb-like basement cafeteria. He knew he should eat, but couldn't bring himself to do more than stare into the cup of cold, weak coffee he'd had since he didn't really know when.

Now that Virgil had found him, Parker stood and finally dropped the cup into a trash can. Virgil would make for much better company.

Two heavy commercial doors with the classic panels of crisscrossed safety glass served as the main exit only a few feet away. Parker glanced to them. “I could use some air.”

Virgil had just arrived and was already feeling the entire building over-head pressing down on him. The ceiling tiles were low and dingy, just there to hide miles of pipes, wires and cables. He gave the dimly lit expanse of ugly tables one last look, glad he wasn't sticking around, before following in Parker's wake as he pushed through one of the heavy doors.

“This place could use a little work,” Parker noted as he by-passed two elevators and headed up the stairs.

“A lot of things in this city could use some work,” Virgil noted.

“Yeah, I've noticed.” Parker wore a grim expression. It seemed incredibly out of place on his usually cheery face.

Virgil had always been the one amongst them most open with his emotions. That hadn't changed over the past several years. His face expressed a tug-of-war between being happy to see an old friend and being fearful of losing another. He skipped all the pleasantries and asked, though Parker's mood suggested the answer already, “How is he?”

“They don't really know yet,” Parker admitted sadly. He added, “They say all we can do now is wait... as if I haven't been doing that already.” He feared that sounded like a complaint, but Virgil only agreed with an understanding nod. Parker warned, “He's out of surgery, but he lost a lot of blood... before and during surgery.”

They both knew the risks associated with blood loss and multiple transfusions. It was just a waiting game for right now, to see how Bubba reacted. An immense strain had been put on his system with the initial loss of blood. Then his body was taxed again, forced to adjust to large quantities of blood that was foreign to his system. A system already working to mend a significant gunshot wound.

There was really nothing either of them could do, so Virgil suggested, “You've been here all day. I can take over until the chief gets here.” He would have preferred to take his friend to diner to get his mind off things for awhile, but Virgil knew better than to try. This was his home now, not theirs. Parker wouldn't agree to leave Bubba alone in strange surroundings. Not in his current condition.

Parker smiled faintly. “Chief's already here.” He picked up his pace.

Virgil didn't doubt him. If Parker said the old man had arrived, he was there. For years he had heard stories and witnessed first hand Parker's uncanny hearing at work, but sometimes he wondered if there was something else there. Some other ability, though he didn't tend to believe in such things.

Virgil had no special abilities, but even he could see what was to come. He knew the old man would be in a foul mood. He'd be looking for Parker and more importantly, looking for answers as to what had brought them all here and what would come next.

As out of the loop as Virgil had been, he wanted those answers just as much as the chief did, perhaps even more. He'd been Philadelphia P.D. once, just like his father-in-law. The Philadelphia P.D. had played too large a part in his family to not want answers. How had it come to this? Who was at fault? What was going to happen to his family now? To Blair? To his organization?

There were just too many unanswered questions for a man who loved his family as much as he did. That included his extended family in Sparta too. They had all been dragged into a potentially dangerous situation. For Bubba, it had gone far beyond _potentially_ dangerous.

xxxxxxxxxx

After several days of harrowing close calls, Bubba had been declared a patient well on his way to making a full recovery. _Probably_. The staff never wanted to offer him any full guarantees, but Bubba smirked slightly at his visitor and admitted, "I'll take what I can get."

"So will I." Virgil looked around to make sure no one was around who would scold him before snatching part of Bubba's lunch. Bubba had offered it to him, not wanting it, but the nurses wouldn't see it that way.

Of course, many of the ladies had developed a soft spot for the captain and would jump at any chance to come to his rescue, protecting him from the friend who kept coming around causing trouble. Virgil couldn't win. He told stories about Althea and the twins that made Bubba laugh, he got scolded. He snuck in food Bubba would actually eat, he got scolded. He brought in magazines, one of which had a bikini clad woman on it, he got scolded.

"They _yell_ at me," Virgil feigned a sigh, eyeing the half wedge of sandwich to see what he was actually getting. "They just fluff your pillows and bat their eyelashes at  you." A grin quickly followed. They both knew the nurses were just being playful, taking a shot at catching one of the eligible bachelors. Of course, Virgil had warned that they themselves might just be two aging guys imagining things.

Bubba eased back into the fluffed pillows of which Virgil had referred. He did seem to have far more of them than necessary. He smirked devilishly, bringing a lot more life into a face that, until now, was weary and pale.

"What can I say, Virgil? I think the ladies just find a gunshot wound mysterious... dangerous...." Bubba grinned faintly. "A little romantic.... but it can't compete with a fella' who makes a lot of money."

Virgil had to choke down his bite of sandwich. He expressed the thought that had come to mind. "Althea wouldn't agree with that."

The look the black man received signaled all levity had just departed to places unknown, which wasn't surprising as Virgil realized Bubba could have taken his statement a whole lot of different ways. He quickly elaborated, "She's still upset."

He'd take the consequences of telling Bubba that over trying to explain that he was not implying that there was a competition between the two of them for Althea's affections. There wasn't one. Yes, there was another rooster in the hen house and a tiny part of him, deep down, didn't like it.

Of course, the other rooster had almost been plucked and deep-fried trying to protect the flock and he was pretty sure a hen would be impressed by that sort of thing. Maybe that tiny bit of concern wasn't quite so small or hidden as deep as he tried to tell himself, but it was still minor.

So, she was eager to see an old friend. Chomping at the bit, actually. So, she talked about him... a lot. It was understandable, under the circumstances. After what had happened to him. Right?

_I'm not getting involved_ , Virgil thought. _We're divorced. It's not my problem. Whatever happens..._ His mind raced. Was something going to happen? No. His sophisticated ex-wife and Bubba? No. Sure, she had admitted once that she found him attractive, but lots of women did. That argument did not ease his growing concerns.

Matters didn't improve as a scowl deepened the exhausted look on Bubba's face. He crossed his arms across his broad chest. He was settling in for a deep brood, irritated with the world. Virgil knew it was all thanks to him.

"Why'd y’all have to go and tell her for, Virgil," Bubba snorted. "There is such a thing as a lil' white lie, ya know." As he vented his anger, his hand drifted down to the stabbing pain in his side. He could do nothing more than that, except grimace and hope Vegas was rotting nicely in a much hotter place.

The wound was still tender. One drainage tube remained, but everything else had been removed. He was no longer a confusing and annoying jumble of tubes and wires. He'd even been allowed to trade up from a humiliating hospital gown to real clothes, just an ordinary pair of black and blue checked lounge pants and a white t-shirt. It was a huge improvement, in his opinion.

They both knew there was no hiding something like this, especially from a woman like Althea. Bubba was just letting off some steam, but he was about to build up some more.

Virgil warned, "She was talking about coming to see you soon."

All the squinting anger melted from Bubba's eyes. They revealed surprise, then concern. "The chief isn't lettin' her come back already, is he?"

Virgil hesitated and he knew Bubba had read his expression dead on when the big man groaned his disapproval. The black man raced to the chief's defense. "No one can tell Althea what to do. You know that as well as I do."

Frustration and anger bloomed in him and pain immediately followed, worse than before. Now, he just went with it, pissed off at a bunch of people who apparently didn't have a lick of sense. He couldn't do anything, with the condition he was in. The chief... or Virgil... or Parker... or Ironjaw Peterson... should have been doing something.

All the new anger melted away too and with it, most of his strength. If he hadn't screwed up, he could be doing something about the situation right now. As it stood, he was likely the biggest cause of it all. Worried and apologetic dark eyes glanced to where Virgil sat, looking worried himself, not liking how Bubba seemed wrung out suddenly. "Virgil, just tell me she isn't comin' here just to see me."

Virgil teased, "When did you develop such an ego?"

Bubba gladly took the jab. He could take anything, as long as it wasn't the guilt of Althea somehow putting herself in danger for him.

Virgil continued, "She has some things to take care of."

It sounded like a temporary situation. Bubba was feeling better about things by the minute. "So, she ain't stayin'?"

"No."

"Good. Ya had me worried...."

The black man, notorious for his playful sense of humor, knew exactly what he was doing when he announced, "She's moving back to Sparta."

Surprise quickly began to yield to something else in Bubba's dark eyes, but Virgil didn't get a chance to find out what.

One of the nurses had caught him not only eating her favorite patient's sandwich, but obviously upsetting him. She snorted at Virgil, "I swear, I don't know why we keep letting you in here!"

Bubba ran interference, wanting desperately to hear what else Virgil had to say, but there was no use. Virgil was kicked out promptly and Bubba was forced to endure the rest of the afternoon with only his own tumbling thoughts to keep him company.

Short on man power, the chief and Parker had returned to Sparta when his condition had definitely taken a positive turn. Virgil was the only connection to home he had left. He didn't even know if Althea was in town or if not, when she'd arrive. He could call home and find out, but he'd spent so many years trying to avoid even saying her name, he didn't feel comfortable bringing her up.

All reports were coming back that Blair had no interest in Althea now that his money had been found. It wasn't in his hands, but if he wanted it, he'd have to talk to the FBI. There was certainly nothing Althea could do for Blair now, but Bubba was still deeply concerned for her safety.

He'd spent many years avoiding her, trying to spare her any potential trouble. The rumors. The allegations. Now, he'd have given anything to be as close as he could get. It wasn't safe for her here yet. He knew it in his gut. Deep down there, near the healing hole in his chest, which was proof that he shouldn't take lightly what his gut had to tell him. This was not a game.

xxxxxxxxxx

After another week of uneventful recovery, Bubba had finally been released from the hospital. He had dreaded the long flight home, but he dreaded leaving Althea alone in Philadelphia even more. He wouldn’t be able to return to duty anytime soon anyway, so Virgil had quickly suggested he come stay with him for awhile.

Althea had promised to put him to work helping her pack, no heavy lifting allowed. If she was aware of Bubba's motive to stay, she gave no sign of it.

Meanwhile, Virgil played down the arrangement, but he was delighted to have his old friend around. He had reestablished some of his old friendships when he'd returned to Philadelphia, but many couldn’t be salvaged. He wasn’t a cop anymore and to some, that made a difference.

Monday morning had rolled around and Virgil was heading to the office.

“Maybe I oughta' head home, Virgil,” Bubba suggested. “You’ve got work to do and I’ll just be here starin’ at the TV all day.” Whatever danger was gnawing at Bubba's nerves had surely passed by now. It had been an uneventful week, followed by a lazy weekend.

Virgil straightened his tie and explained, “Althea might have the house packed up, but she’s got two hyper handfuls to keep busy until the truck comes to pick up everything. You could help her keep them entertained.”

“I’m in no condition to defend myself against ‘em, Virgil. They’ll knock me down and beat me up,” Bubba joked.

“Just pretend they’re bears and play dead,” Virgil advised, tossing Bubba a set of keys. “I’ll take the bus, so you can have the car if you want it. A key to the apartment is there too.” He didn’t wait around for an argument, but then realized he needed to say something. He stuck his head back in the door and said, “Really, go see her. I think she wants to talk to you about something.”

Virgil was making good time down the sidewalk when he heard Bubba yell after him, “What sorta’ somethin’?”

Virgil only shrugged and waved. After all, he wasn't getting involved.

xxxxxxxxxx

It was late morning and the TV pickings were getting slimmer and slimmer. Bubba hadn’t really been watching anyway, just staring blindly, deep in thought. He’d been to Althea’s house before, but always with plenty of work to do. Virgil had always been there, as well as Althea’s parents.

Her father had cornered him often and talked his ear off, but he enjoyed the older man's company a great deal. Her mother had kept her distance, making him uncomfortable with a peculiar smile from time to time.  _That gal had somethin’ on her mind_ , Bubba thought, as he clicked off the TV. According to Virgil, it was now her daughter that had something on her mind and it made him nervous.

He finally decided to make the drive over. If anything, to get the awkward part out of the way. Althea was heading back to Sparta to stay. He’d have to deal with whatever was going on eventually.

He’d sat still for too long. His side had grown stiff. He was easing himself up off of Virgil's sofa when his cell phone rang from where it was plugged into an outlet in the kitchen. “Damn,” he muttered.

He managed to reach it before they hung up. Surprised by the voice that greeted him from the other end, he asked, “Marissa?”

“How you feeling, handsome? Did they put everything back where it belongs?”

He answered, “Lil’ sore, but I’ll live.”

“Glad to hear it. You had me worried.”

He'd been hearing the same thing from a lot of people lately. Before he could respond, she continued on, teasing, “I almost got you killed, now I'm bringing you bad news. You just can't win with me.”

“Apparently not,” he teased back, then waited for whatever it was she had to tell him.

“We’re still sorting through recent events and we discovered who ratted Althea out to Blair's people.”

Bubba’s temper instantly flared. “Who?”

“I'll get to that, but first... Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you know if Althea was seeing any of her patients... you know, romantically?”

He wanted to say it couldn’t be possible, but he didn’t know for sure. “If she was, she didn’t mention it to us. Her kids were at stake. I couldn't imagine her keepin' somethin' like that from us just to save her own hide.”

“I was thinking the same thing, but I had to ask. Here’s what we know. One Merrill Evans came to Vegas and reported to him that he knew of an affair going on between James Kelly and his therapist, Althea Peterson. Supposedly Evans heard it from Kelly himself."

She continued, with the catch. There was always a catch. "Well, Kelly says it isn’t true. He claims he never told Evans any such thing. So, we go looking for one Mr. Merrill Evans and he’s gone. His boss says he seemed to just come apart at the edges over several weeks, until they had to fire him. We go to his place, it's trashed. We think he packed a bag and took off."

She hesitated before explaining the worst of it all, "This is where it gets creepy. He was stalking Peterson. Found all sorts of stuff. Photos, clippings. This is the same guy who referred Kelly to her as a therapist in the first place.”

Bubba asked, “Have ya got her side of the story yet?”

“I called, but got no answer. It's probably a good thing that I'm talking to you before I spook her with all of this. I think we'd all feel a little better, especially her, if you could arrange for someone to keep an eye on things, at least for now. I think he'll eventually show up there. I can't imagine a guy this obsessed just walking away from his entire life without having something sinister in mind.”

With his mind racing with ideas of what he'd do to Evans if he made the mistake of showing up, Bubba still managed to ask, “How’d you know I was still here in Philadelphia?”

“A little birdie told me.” She sounded partial to the birdie in question.

“Well, if that birdie don’t stop tweetin’ so much, I’m gonna’ duct tape his beak shut,” Bubba replied.

Marissa saw through Bubba's empty threat and asked, “Think you can take care of this on your end?”

It was a loaded question. Did he have the resources? Was he up to it? Did he have the patience to see them through one more potential crisis? No was the answer all the way around. “Yeah, I'll see what I can do.”

After telling Marissa to take care of herself, he tried Althea’s number. There was still no answer.

Bubba hung up as a thoughtful scowl began to emerge across his tired face. They were probably out and the answering machine was likely packed in a box, like almost everything else.

Althea had a dozen errands to run before the move. Canceling services and getting her mail rerouted, just to name a few.

He kept thinking that as he backed Virgil’s car out of its space.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bubba looked from one twin to the other. Seeing them riding their bikes along the quiet residential street had already quenched a great deal of his anxiety, but a little lingered as he said, “I called your momma and didn’t get an answa'.”

Sarah spoke up, straddling her bike after coming to a stop. “Yeah, they cut the phone off early. Then they tried to turn it back on. Now it doesn’t work right. Mom’s hopping mad.”

Billy looked from his sister to Bubba and asked, “Do people really hop when they’re mad?”

Bubba answered in his slow drawl, “Well, yeah, s'pose some do.”

He suspected the twins found it easier to talk to him than he found it to talk to them. They'd warmed to him instantly, but so had their mother, even after so many years apart. Maybe it was just a personality trait. Meanwhile, he continued to choose his words carefully and made sure to not get too comfortable. He was out of place here.

“Have you ever been hopping mad, Bubba?” Sarah asked. It was obvious she was still getting a kick out of his name.

Bubba admitted, “I usually hit somebody 'for I reach that point.”

Billy laughed and Bubba realized he shouldn’t have said that. He continued, “Not that I’m suggestin’ you two should go 'round sluggin’ people for makin’ ya mad.”

Sarah had a smile just like her mother's. Thoughtful and sincere. She reassured him, her tone just like her mother's too, “Don’t worry, Bubba, we won’t tell our mom you said that.”

“Good,” Bubba sighed.

The twins abandoned him, leaving him alone with his thoughts on the sidewalk. They locked their bikes to the front porch in what appeared to be a daily ritual and barreled through the front door.

Bubba followed in a more subdued fashion. His insides hurt. All the excitement was taking its toll. The dull pain was always there, but sharp pains would streak through him like lightning cutting through a dark sky. Blazing, then gone. It was worrisome. The bolts always originated from the same spot, but each cutting a different jagged line.

Other than that, all seemed well, for now. He hoped it stayed that way. In just a few days, Althea would be saying goodbye to Philadelphia. Virgil intended to follow as soon as he could, to stay near his children. Bubba respected him for that.

The two men had spoken about the move at length. Virgil had made it all sound so easy at first, but eventually the truth had come out. He was leaving a great job behind. One that was likely only going to get better, but he reasoned that, in the end, all he really had was his family and his self-respect. He wouldn't have either, if he stayed behind. What kind of man would he be to expect his family to stay in a place where they no longer felt safe.

The children had obviously announced Bubba's arrival. As he let himself in, Althea came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

She greeted him warmly, like always, “Afternoon, Bubba. About time you stopped by. I was afraid Virgil hadn't passed on my message.”

“Ma’am.” Without a hat to tip or remove, he ran his hand through his hair instead. It had hit the length he hated, where the intense natural wave started to kick in. It also stuck out every which way when he wore his hat. That's why he was without it. He now missed having something to fidget with, so he stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

Should he say Virgil had sent him? Launch into Marissa's concerns? Launch into his own concerns, which were a heck of a lot more complicated without even mentioning Merrill Evans?

She knew the hand-through-the-hair signal. “Something wrong, Bubba?” Getting closer, she could see it written all over his pale face. “For a start, you’ve over done yourself.”

“Yeah, a little, but we need to talk.” The serious problem at hand sent his aches and pains to a distant place. They were still there, but hazy and hard to make out.

“The old sofa is still here.” She led him through a jumble of covered furnishings. “We’re leaving it for the neighbors.” She sat quickly and patted the cushion next to her, wearing an expectant look on her face.

Bubba grimaced as he eased himself down. A whole electrical storm was at work inside him now, the energy being discharged from the barely healed wound in his side. It made him wonder if he was healed outside, but not inside.

“Are you alright?” She didn’t hesitate to put the back of her hand to his cheek, then his forehead. “You’re not warm... you’re not bleeding, are you?”

“Don’t think so. All that's pretty much healed up.” He hoped.

Althea hastily stood up and walked away. “I’m mothering you. I'm sure you could do without that.” She paced in between boxes and wrapped up furniture.

He quickly reassured her, joking, “I don’t mind, ma'am. I’m a dimwit. Somebody needs to look out for me.”

She turned to see him smiling brightly at her. He looked better, with a little color returning to his face. Focus returning to his gaze. Maybe he’d just been on his feet too long. He wasn't going to recover overnight. If he had, he'd be back in Sparta now, not here with her.

Her mind drifted off with thoughts of what it really meant to have him here. Thoughts of what needed to be said.

He brought her back to the present, saying bluntly, “But we do need to talk and I’m not gonna’ beat 'round it. Do you rememba' a guy named Merrill Evans?”

“I know a few Merrill’s,” she replied. “An older gentleman down the street, but I don’t think his last name is Evans. I had a patient named Merrill....”

Bubba cut her off, saying, “Let’s talk 'bout him.”

“Not much to say. Average. Had a drug problem. He did ask me out once, but I had to turn him down. You can see why... the conflict it would have created. I think he took it personally though. He never came back. It was a real shame, he was making progress. I might have even dated him, under different circumstances.”

“Well, that explains a lot.” Bubba rubbed his jaw. Several days worth of stubble felt out of place there. A bit of a surprise even to him, a good deal of it was a striking salt and pepper now. It was only a matter of time before his dark hair followed.

Althea was getting a sinking feeling. “Explains what?”

“Why this fella' had it in for ya. Evans was the connection to Kelly. All I can figua' is that when Evans thought he had a chance with you, things was fine. He even sent his buddy, Kelly, over to see ya. After you shot him down, he went crazy. Got it in his head that you and Kelly had a thing.”

“A thing? Who told you this?”

“Marissa thinks that’s why they went afta' ya so hard. They thought you and Kelly had a love affair goin' and that you were waitin' to be contacted by him, so ya could run off togetha'... with Blair's money.”

Althea was speechless. Her head was swimming with theories and plots and lies. All this trouble because she wouldn’t go out with someone? She felt her blood boil. “Oh, I’ll kill him. I’ll get my hands around his neck and just squeeze.” She went through the motions as Bubba watched on wide eyed. This wasn’t the Althea Tibbs he remembered, but now that she was Althea Peterson again, maybe it was only natural she'd have changed. She didn't have that old life anymore.

Bubba replied, “Well, ya might get your chance. Apparently, he's snapped entirely. They can't find him. Nothin’ for certain, but they think he might be payin’ you a visit real soon.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes and she said, “So, that’s why you’re here, looking a little worse for wear. You're checking up on me.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Caught me.”

“Bubba, I appreciate it, but you’re in no condition to....”

“I’ll just be around if ya need me is all.” He didn’t like the expression on her face, so he added, “Tell ya what, I’ll just stay until ya can get somebody else to come ova’. Alright? Don’t want ya here by yourselves and I make ya uncomfortable, so....”

It was her turn to look sheepish, which was a look she didn't wear often. She was uncomfortable around him as charged and had tried so hard to hide it from him. She was either really bad at hiding her feelings or he knew her better than she thought he did. Maybe it was a little bit of both. She seldom kept her feelings to herself, so she didn't have much practice at it.

“You’re right," she confessed. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah," Bubba mumbled, "I figua'd. Ya ain't one for keepin' things to yourself."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked, just out of curiosity. She wanted to know what a strong, silent type thought of a touchy-feely type, like her.

"Yes, ma'am," he conceded with a smile. "We all can't run 'round with everything bottled up all the time or nothin' would eva' get said. Nothin' would eva' get done. Nothin' would eva' change."

She’d forgotten that he could be this way. Philosophical, putting his own sweet, simple spin to life. She’d forgotten a lot of things. Missed a lot of things. With her head swimming with several years of lost time, she simply said, “I’ve missed you.” It felt like the easy, natural place to start.

Her statement took him by surprise. “Missed you too,” he mumbled softly.

The house fell silent. The twins had gone back outside. Through the living room's large bay window, he could see SUVs and sedans creeping up and down the street. A species of tree he wasn't familiar with seemed to be planted in every yard here, their leaves flipping to the lighter side, warning of rain to come.

Bubba broke the silence. “You got a park 'round here close?”

The question caught Althea off guard, her mind was definitely elsewhere. “Um, yes, a couple blocks over. Why?”

“You let them go there alone?” he asked.

“All the time.”

“Might send them there now or bring them back in. Evans, he'll be focused on you, but I still wouldn’t risk it. Not that he’s gonna’ show up for sure, anyway.”

She was going to call them back in, then realized there wasn’t much left unpacked to keep them occupied. The truck was coming the following day. Not to mention, she still had Bubba to deal with. They'd gotten off to a rocky start, but it was still a start. She wanted to finish it.

After sending the twins off on their bikes, with a stern warning to stay away from strangers, she took a deep breath.  _I’m getting this over with,_ she thought.

She returned to the living room, though it looked more like a storage unit now. Boxes were taped shut, labeled and stacked against walls. Furniture stood covered, some pieces more protected than others, suggesting which pieces meant the most to her.

It seemed sadly fitting that Bubba was sitting there on the sofa meant to be left behind. She had left him behind once and had yet to make things right. “I’m sorry, Bubba... about _everything_.”

They were getting down to it and he was as anxious to be done with it as she was. He had a sense he knew what _everything_ was. He was carrying around a similar guilt of his own. "This about you leavin'?"

There was no mistaking the moment he was referring to, her leaving Sparta years ago. She paced slowly around the room. The house was warm, but she rubbed her bare arms. She was plagued by a deep chill she just couldn't shake. All of her energy was being pumped into her churning emotions. She couldn't talk to Bubba about their lapsed friendship without dredging everything else up from the bottom of her memory too.

All the things she wanted to keep down were floating to the surface. There was her hasty decision to leave Sparta. Her failed marriage. So many failed relationships since then. The guilt of raising her children in a broken home. What it all must have done to Virgil. The awkward position it had forced all their friends into.

More and more came up, clouding her thoughts. It just made it that much harder to do this one thing right. That's what she needed, to get _this_ right. Nothing else mattered right now, but the past didn't seem to agree. It wouldn't leave her in peace.

“Maybe I oughta' be askin’ if you’re alright,” Bubba said with concern. He managed to get off the sofa without too much difficulty. He didn't need her fussing over him. Right now, it looked to him like it needed to be the other way around. Something was really bothering her.

The cooler autumn weather in the northern city had prompted him to wear a thick flannel over his customary button-down cotton shirt. He slipped out of it and draped it around her shoulders. She slipped into it willingly and commented lightly, "Always the gentleman."

He shrugged bashfully. He had his doubts about being a gentleman as fleeting urges crossed his mind, brought on by her closeness. Her scent. Even her long, delicate fingers as she tucked the red and gray checkered pattern tightly around her body, proving she was cold, just like he had suspected.

He confessed, "A gentleman would have handled things betta' these past few years. I've been meanin' to apologize for that... 'Spose now is as good a time as any." He added firmly, "I shouldn't have let myself get pushed away so easy."

Concern creased her pretty face. "Was I pushing?"

His expressive eyes pronounced her guilty as charged, but all was forgiven. "Yeah, but I know ya betta' than that. Ya didn't intend to. I just let ya. Shouldn't have, but I did."

His body language said he always let her walk all over him and he probably always would. "I know why ya was doin' it. Ya thought you had it so easy livin' way up here, away from the rumors and all that. Ya knew I wouldn't be so lucky."

Every scenario that had played out in her mind had failed to address the possibility that the break up of their friendship had been deliberate _and_ mutual. She'd pushed him away to spare him, but hadn't guessed he spent time considering why.

He was obviously carrying around guilt of his own. Had thought about the whole situation at length. Thought about her at length as much as she'd thought about him. She could only hazard a guess as to what had gone through his mind, but she knew exactly what had been going through hers over the past few years. More importantly, what had been going through her mind this past few weeks.

Blood pumped hot and fierce through her veins. If he'd been thinking only a portion of her thoughts... if he had only a hint of an idea what was going on in her head. The chill that had crept into her earlier was long gone and she needed to focus before she said or did something incredibly stupid.

She asked, "So, you knew?" She rushed to elaborate, fearful of what he actually knew. "That I was worried about you?" She couldn't get it right! "Your reputation... the rumors." Her words came out too choppy. Filled with too much emotion.

_So much for focus,_ she thought.

He smiled softly. "I suspected." Without thinking, he slipped his fingers beneath a lock of her hair that was caught beneath his flannel shirt. It gave way easily and he brushed it smooth. "You've always looked out for me. Wasn't much of a stretch to think ya might be doin' it again."

Even she could stumble over her emotions and her own tongue at times, but the cool, calm therapist was never gone for long. She came back swinging, determination gleaming in her eyes. "I want to rekindle this friendship, Coach."

It was his turn to give too much away, sounding both sad and pleased as he said, "You haven't called me that in years."

"It's been _too_ long." She moved closer as she stressed sincerely, "I want to fix this." She was tall, but so close, even she had to peer up to look into his eyes to read his reaction. She'd always dated slightly taller men. She had to, because shorter men seldom wanted to be overshadowed.

Now, she was the one feeling eclipsed, which was unusual for her. Past boyfriends might have been taller than her, but they didn't have the same presence that Bubba had. He seemed unmovable. She'd always liked that.

The way his gaze dropped to meet hers just added to the feeling she had. Maybe being caught up in the moment was why she thought she saw adoration flicker in those dark eyes, hinting the way he felt about her was unmovable too. He assured softly, "Nothin' to fix. Water unda' the bridge and all that."

All he wanted was for the two of them to move on from here, so he wasn't prepared when she decided her next move was to step into him. Her arms went around him and he instinctively let her in. It all happened too fast to allow him to really think about it first.

When his brain finally did react, he let out a held breath and relaxed. Surely, he could handle a harmless little hug. A half-second later, he was thinking things were pretty good. Feelings dealt with. Friendship saved. Worst of it over with.

A half-second after that, he was terrified, but in the way that only happened when he was dealing with the fairer sex. There was a beautiful woman breathing on his neck. She smelled nice. His arms were around her. His hands were on her. Her body was against him.

Some internal clock warned him that they had just surpassed the time allotted for a friendly hug. His heart pounded. He feared she'd feel it, making everything that much worse. He had no idea what he wanted. He was a man. It was natural to always lean a little one way, but that way was trouble. Lots and lots of trouble. When faced with a woman in his arms and no idea what to do next, he'd found that to idle in neutral was often best, not popping it into forward or reverse. Let her choose which way to go. She'd started it, after all.

Althea shifted her head on his shoulder and sighed. Bubba held his breath. That had sounded like one of two kinds of sighs. One, she just needed a minute and was about to open up to him or two... He couldn't think about two. Two led to... well, it would take more than a minute and if she were still married it definitely wouldn't happen.

Another sigh and a shift of her weight, then her arms tightening slightly around him. She was making herself right at home. All of this happening in mere seconds, but feeling to him like an eternity. Thoughts crashed through his mind, like devastating landslides. With every breath, the landscape changed as he wondered what was happening. Wondered what she wanted. Wondered what she was thinking. Was he supposed to say something? Do something?

Bubba had separated himself entirely from the world around him. It was just him and her. Just as he finally considered that it might actually be okay to just stop thinking and let whatever happened happen, his subconscious broke in, warning his conscious mind that it had missed something. He'd heard something. No, he _thought_ he heard something, but he knew how his subconscious worked. He might have been distracted by a beautiful woman in his arms, but his subconscious was still working hard.

Althea's own subconscious was at work, detecting a change. The moment had passed, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It had been nice and nothing lasted forever. "I just needed that," she admitted, letting him go. She looked up, fearful she might have crossed a line with him. "If I'm pushing again..."

The look she gave him melted away all thoughts and fears he'd had only a second ago. She was worried and that always brought out one thing in him, protectiveness. Bubba replied honestly, "I'm not goin' anywhere, ma'am."

_Back to ma'am again_ , she thought sadly. _Well, Rome wasn't built in a day._ Not wanting to let it go, she said, "I think we both know that you've _always_ been there." She added with conviction, "I could have counted on you. If I had needed you...."

He cut her off, "I'd have come runnin'... ya know me pretty well."

"Don't think I don't appreciate that, Bubba. I know how lucky I am to have you." She could have slapped him and likely gotten the same expression out of him, which caused a crushing pain in her heart.

He felt like an idiot as he wiped the look of surprise off his face. He knew it was there as well as she did. Worse, his subconscious was at work again. Just a nagging suspicion that something profound had just happened and he wouldn't figure it out until later. It reminded him of the initial pinch he'd felt in his leg before the injury that would eventually end his football career. His subconscious knew before he did that something was amiss.

He was older and wiser now and willing to listen, but he didn't hear anything, except a peculiar noise in the real world. His gut told him he was hearing that same sound from before, but louder.

Althea watched as he turned his head and looked up slightly. The stairs were out of view, behind the living room wall. She didn't like the look on his face, then she noticed him slowly going for his gun.

He made a motion with his hand for her to keep up the conversation they’d been having. She rolled her eyes, it wasn’t easy subject matter. She tapped into her years as a counselor and thought it as good a time as any to analyze the situation. "I've always suspected that you keep me at a safe emotional distance, because you see me as a woman who could actually change you, instead of just _trying_ to change you like all the other women in your life."

Bubba had been creeping towards the atrium, to get a look up the stairs. He halted abruptly and glanced back at her. His expression was half puzzlement and half amazement. She shrugged at him and grinned. "I don't want to change you, Coach. Just analyzing."

Bubba whispered back at her, not wanting to give away his position, "Well, I think _you_ just like havin' _me_ 'round 'cause I'm _not_ easy to change." He made it to the living room entrance and looked up the stairs. He didn’t spot anything out of place and continued on.

"Valid assessment," she conceded, also whispering. She had drawn up next to him. "I do tend to get my way with most men and I have a personality that _is_ drawn to a challenge." Althea looked around desperately and spotted her large Mag-lite flashlight. She’d intended to crawl up into the attic, requiring the flashlight, one last time to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. She quickly grabbed it and tightened both hands around it, ready to use it like a club.

Bubba had already started up the stairs. He remained tight against the wall, hoping the boards wouldn’t creak beneath his bulk. Althea was much lighter, but she followed his example to be safe. He was frustrated by her attempt to follow him and motioned her back down the stairs. She only glared at him defiantly and kept climbing.

As he climbed, Althea watched his expression soften. A few steps higher and she understood why, the sounds had become clearer. Something was in her bedroom, not a someone. The door was open slightly and, with gun still drawn, Bubba nudged it open.

The room was bare, except for a half disassembled bed, a dresser and one dull brown bird sitting on her windowsill. It chirped wildly and flew against the glass. She quickly moved to open the window and the outer screen, which sent the bird darting frantically around the room. After she moved away from the window, the animal saw its chance at freedom and darted out.

She turned around to find Bubba looking up and down the hall. He motioned for her to follow and when she did, he took her hand and led her along. He kept himself between her and any potential threat, giving her an explanation for why he'd taken her hand. She was a little disappointed, but his protectiveness didn't go unappreciated.

There were two rooms to go. One down the hall on the left, the other farther down the hall on the right. The next door was wide open and the room was empty. Only bare walls and one wide open window stared back at them. Bubba approached this one cautiously, because the roof to the porch spread out beyond it, giving someone a place to hide. Not about to stick his head out, he closed and locked the window instead. Someone would have to break it to get back in and that would make a racket.

The final room on the second floor awaited them. The door was closed. Bubba had a gut feeling that this room would be empty too. There was no reason a man would bother to sneak in, only to barricade himself farther away from his target downstairs.

His hunch was right. Only a pair of sleeping bags and a lamp occupied the space. He smiled to himself when he noticed that one sleeping bag featured Transformers and the other Yu-Gi-Oh. He barely knew what the Transformers were and the other was a mystery. Bright colors, bold text and action scenes emblazoned both. He hadn’t figured Sarah to be the Barbie type. She was too much like her mother, who was still ready to pummel someone with a flashlight.

Bubba’s voice was low, but not a whisper, as he said, “Must have got by us.” He'd already repositioned her, expecting a threat to come from downstairs instead. Of course, it would meet him first.

“Dad went out on the roof this morning to get the satellite dish. He probably forgot to close the window.”

“I’ll check the rest of the house, but I bet you’re right.”

After a thorough search, Bubba concluded the house was safe. He’d found nothing and now every window and door was shut and locked tight. Most of the few remaining items upstairs were dragged downstairs. The twins could sleep on the living room floor in their sleeping bags, which was fine with them. It allowed them access to the television. It was all fun to them, especially with the clock ticking towards the big move.

Just as Virgil had said, Althea had two hyper handfuls. They were sad to be leaving their friends, but they were excited by the thought of all the new possibilities. They had the unique advantage of being twins with a strong bond. No matter where they went, they always had at least one friend in each other.

Bubba just wanted to keep everyone close. Evans would likely turn out to be harmless, even if he did show up. Not to mention, if Evans waited long enough, he'd find himself breaking into an empty house anyway.

xxxxxxxxxx

Althea grumbled to herself, as she picked up the ringing phone,  _I leave tomorrow._ Now  _they’ve fixed the phone._

Finding Virgil on the other end, Althea filled him in on all the day’s excitement. He offered to come over, but quickly understood that she just didn’t have enough sleeping space left. She’d be spending the night on the floor next to the twins, only on a small mattress instead of in a sleeping bag. Bubba would be on the couch. He’d offered to take the floor, but she argued that the floor was no place for a man who’d recently been shot.

After a dinner of what few tidbits she could scrape up, she walked down the street to Virgil’s car and grabbed Bubba’s bag out of the trunk. He’d come prepared to stay. During the short walk back, she reconsidered his offer of having someone else come over.

Maybe she should have Virgil come over. The two men could swap places and Bubba could spend the night in more comfort than he'd find here with her. But that's what it boiled down to, she wanted him here with her, more so she could look after him than the other way around.

He was stretched out on the couch, boots off and feet propped up, when she returned. He’d been anxious about her leaving the house, but she wouldn’t let him make the walk. He was beyond exhausted already. He'd lost his strength so quickly that it had her a little worried.

She dropped the bag onto a sheet wrapped chair and asked, “Pills?” She suspected he'd skipped taking some or all of them.

“End pocket..." He watched her search with apparently no success. "Maybe the other end,” he suggested.

Finding so many bottles just worried her even more and all the tiny print instructions on them looked like a migraine waiting to happen, so she asked, “Do you know which ones you need to take now?”

“By name, no. I took pretty much one of everything this mornin'." He watched her read the first bottle and frown. Each bottle etched the scowl a little deeper into her dark face as she read the labels and warnings. Some didn't sound safe for human consumption at all, let alone taken with so many other pharmaceuticals. After inspection, each bottle went into one of several groups on the small end table she'd uncovered to use for the evening.

Done, she looked up and he could practically read the words forming on her lips. He broke in gently, “Don’t wanna’ hear it. What's done is done."

“Bubba....”

“Hush, I’m watchin’ this... thing with the... what eva' they’re watchin’....” He gave up the act, when a kangaroo started to talk and dance on the screen. The twins seemed oblivious to the conversation, perhaps a blossoming quarrel, that the adults were having.

Althea gave up. She had no intention of scolding him. She watched the kangaroo, so he couldn't try to read her any further. Maybe he actually did know what she was going to say and didn't want to hear that either. _Don't ever scare me like this again, Coach. Ever. Ever!_ Okay, maybe that did have a bit of scolding to it, but it was well intentioned.

Getting her emotions under control, she forced a smile. “A man who loves childrens' programming... going right on my list of turn ons.”

“Where do you keep this list?” he teased back.

“Bubba!” Some of her surprise was genuine. A statement like that wasn’t like him. Not that she didn’t like it.

Althea counted everything out and ended up with a small pile, which she brushed off the table into her hand. “How many broken bits and pieces do you have exactly?” She asked, because the pile suggested more problems than she'd been told about.

He joked, “Just my liva'... and my pride... and a good pair of pants. You’d think they’d just yank those off ya, but no....”

“Here.” She handed him a disturbing amount of drugs, then handed him a glass of iced tea.

She focused on the ice as it swirled in the amber liquid, trying to dispel images of his clothes being cut off. It was a sad testament to the severity of what had happened to him, but it also had sexual undertones that she couldn't shake.

She couldn't help but wonder if he'd crept into a few of the nurses' fantasies. She'd certainly had quite a few of those herself over the years. Even when she had been married, she had fantasized. It was only natural. She was married, not blind.

Bubba saved her from her own thoughts by trying to hand several pills back to her. "Not these. Put 'em back.”

She argued gently, “You need to take all of them.”

“These are just pain pills. They make me loopy.”

She said softly, “You’re already loopy. You’ve been a little off for about an hour now. Take them... all of them.” He gave her a stubborn glare, but she just gave him a sweeter one right back. He gave in and popped the final pills into his mouth and washed them down, but he made sure to finish it all off with a look that told her he still wasn't happy about doing it.

She ignored his displeasure and put the back of her hand to his forehead. She had a thermometer packed somewhere, but she didn't need it to tell her he was feverish. Probably hovering between a hundred and one and two. She wasn't gifted. She'd just found that if she could tell for sure by touch, that's usually what the thermometer eventually told her.

"Well, doc?" Bubba asked. Apparently he was over the whole pill incident and willing to offer her a smile. A tired one, but a smile all the same.

"You're a bit warm." She teased, "But I don't think I have to ice you down just yet."

He seemed enamored with the idea, asking, "Are ya sure? I'm an angelic patient."

A strong autumn breeze had kicked up outside and the weather had started to effect the TV reception. With no dish, they were stuck watching local stations. A sudden strong gust and the accompanying static suggested someone upstairs was disagreeing with Bubba's claims. Althea happened to agree, giving him just a smile before suggesting he try to get some rest.

She turned down the television to a level she thought would work for everyone and went off to do other things. She had lost track of time, but it seemed like it wasn't long at all before the twins came and found her, hoping she could fix the reception after they had no success at it.

After several attempts, she conceded that the reception had given out entirely. She turned off the TV and issued a warning that the weather was likely going to take a turn for the worse.

Turning, she realized the reception wasn’t the only thing out. Bubba could have passed for comatose if he didn’t twitch and mutter from time to time. She checked and his fever was gone, which was a huge relief to her. She wasn't prepared to deal with a real crisis with him, but just like when her children were sick, scenarios had ran through her head. She had thought out what to do and when to do it, only she had to take into consideration the stubbornness of the patient.

_Angelic, my behind_ , she thought lightly.

She turned to the twins and said softly, “Come on, you two. We’ll go in the kitchen. You can help me clean the fridge. She’d defrosted the aging behemoth already. Now it just needed wiped down and disinfected. It was a job that could be done now or later, but she actually had the time now. Later was iffy. “After that, to bed. That truck will be here early.”

“Won’t our stuff get there without us?” Sarah asked.

“Yes, it will, but we have friends there who’ll take care of it.” She was incredibly grateful for that too, needing all the help she could get with moving so unexpectedly. She was running on empty.

xxxxxxxxxx

The breeze of earlier in the evening had blown in a strong storm. A crash of thunder brought Althea awake with a start. At first, she was bewildered, until she realized where she was. The streetlights outside illuminated the room well. The twins were asleep.

Bubba was also asleep. He’d stripped off his shirt during the night, kicked aside the blanket she'd given him and had sprawled himself out, resembling a passed out drunk. She checked. His fever was back and worse than before. He was sweaty and so deep asleep he didn't stir as she ran her hand over him, gathering clues by touch.

Her hand lingered on his face. Barely brushing against the grain brought out the prickly texture of his new beard. “Who’s taking care of who here,” she whispered with a smile. Her smile quickly faded, knowing that she’d have to take him to the Emergency Room if this continued for long. She went through a mental check list of all the things that could be potentially wrong with him. Everything from infection to complete liver failure. She could already see this turning into a long night.

Lightning crackled through the night sky and struck a tree next door. After shaking off being scared half to death by something that didn't even phase anyone else in the room, her curiosity got the better of her and she went to the large bay window. She noticed a man dragging something out of the trunk of a car parked along the street out front.

She was intrigued. Not only was it well after midnight and storming, but she realized he had pulled not one, but four, large plastic gasoline jugs out of his trunk. “Your yard’s the size of a postage stamp. How much gas do you need?”

She watched suspiciously as he crossed the street with two of them. She was fearful at first, but then he turned and headed down the sidewalk and into another yard. It seemed peculiar, but living in the suburbs for several years had taught her that many of her neighbors were just that, peculiar. Some where just downright nuts, like anywhere else. In the suburbs, they just tried harder to hide it. Unfortunately, this was stranger than usual and she was on edge anyway.

Althea stood at the window, head cocked in slight puzzlement. “All that gas, in the rain and he parks down here. He could park down there.” Not liking what she was seeing, she quickly called the police. She doubted her decision to do so.  _It’s probably nothing. Maybe there wasn’t a space down there. Who would start a fire in rain like this anyway?_

The Philadelphia Police Department seemed to be humoring her when they took down the information. After she hung up, she dug through her purse. She had a friend who lived only a few houses down the street, in the direction the stranger had gone. Althea knew she’d recently divorced an abusive husband. She’d call her, just in case.

Before Althea could even find the right page in her address book, she heard a small explosion. She wouldn't have likely jumped to that conclusion any other time, but she knew exactly what it was now. She wasn’t thinking as she grabbed her coat and headed for the front door.

“Oh no ya don’t,” she heard someone say, before she ran into a wall that shouldn’t have been there. She stumbled backwards, catching herself. Even in the poorly lit foyer, she could tell that it was Bubba she’d ran face first into. She hadn't budged him at all, but had managed to really knock the wind out of herself.

“Mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on,” Bubba demanded, rubbing his head sleepily with one hand and clutching a snub nose revolver in the other.

When she'd found her voice again, she stated. “I think someone set fire to a house down the street.”

He leaned his bulk against the front door, trying to work his mind around the unusual information she'd just given him. "What now?"

He'd been jarred out of his sleep, then found her trying to run out the door. He was still pretty fuzzy. She repeated herself and it made little more sense than before. He said, “And how exactly does that make it a good idea to go out there?”

Althea oozed defiance, still entirely focused on her friend's safety and not her own and certainly not used to a man bossing her around. “I just want to know which house it is... and I'm going.”

“Nothin’ you can do about it. Nothin' I can do about it,” he said, with a softening tone. If he'd been in better shape, there might have been something he could do, but not right now. All he could do now was protect her and the kids, or so he hoped.

That brought Althea's attitude down a notch her two. Not seeing through a lens of anger anymore and used to the poor light, she finally noticed the exhaustion on Bubba's face. Even all the excitement couldn't break through it, like it had with her. She couldn't have gone back to bed even if she wanted to. Everything about him begged for sleep.

Sirens began to come into range and the twins came out of the living room, both rubbing their eyes and mumbling, “What’s going on?”

“Your momma’s just tryin’ to give me a nervous breakdown,” Bubba said.

A fire engine sped by, sirens blaring. Billy’s face was instantly pressed against the slit of a window next to the door. “Wow, it’s stopping down the street. Can we go see it? Please! Please! Please!”

Althea leaned to one side to look out the same window. Bubba was still blocking the door, not trusting her for a minute to not throw it open and go out. She just glanced briefly outside. Her eyes quickly came back to Bubba. He was oblivious to her eyes roaming over him as he inspected the situation through the window himself. He was looking for entirely different reasons, expecting trouble.

When he finally looked back to Althea, she was done looking at the ugly wound in his side. Part of his chest had been shaved. A shadow suggested it was already growing back. She was done trying to guess how much weight he'd lost. He had shed the layer of meat that kept him a bit on the burly side. Now, everything hard underneath showed, especially as he moved.

She was eager to stop thinking about what had happened to him and find out what had happened to her friend. “Half the neighborhood’s out there, Bubba. Nothing’s going to happen.” Her tone had changed, she was willing to take no for an answer, if he wanted to give it one more time.

“I don’t like this,” Bubba growled. But he stood away from the door and watched in amazement as all three of them ran out into the rain in nothing but pajamas and coats. “And they tell ya’ you’re crazy,” he said loudly to himself, slamming the door.

xxxxxxxxxx

Althea grabbed two little hands and started back up the sidewalk. It wasn’t her friend’s house. Not seeing her out with the rest of the neighborhood, Althea assumed she was out for the evening.

Billy dragged his feet, wanting to stay and watch the firemen, but he still minded his mother and started home. They were all soaking wet and the various flashing lights gave the yard an eerie appearance. “Bubba’s going to be fuming, I just know....”

“Hi there, doc,” she heard someone yell. Her heart seemed to briefly stop cold in her chest. Glancing around, she didn’t see anyone. She wanted to tell the children to run, but she didn’t know which way to send them. He could be anywhere.

The voice came again, but offered instructions this time, “Hey, doc, look up."

She slowly lifted her gaze to the front porch roof and there he sat. Dangling his legs like a child, he played a game of balancing what looked to be a shotgun in his lap. The shotgun wasn’t the immediate threat. A laser suddenly came to life and trailed up her lean frame. There was more than enough light to make out a large handgun in his right hand, from which the laser originated.

He made the laser dance in her eyes and she had to look away. “This one’s for you... and maybe them,” he said, reminding her of an obnoxious child. “And this one’s for me,” he said proudly, patting the shotgun in his lap.

_Bubba, for God’s sake, where are you?_ “Merrill, we can talk about this,” Althea said, stalling for time.

The gunman suddenly went into a rage. “Don’t call me that! Why does everybody fucking call me that?”

“Cause it’s your name, jackass,” Merrill heard from behind him. Instantly, he felt something hit him and the ground seemed to rush up to meet him. He struggled to catch his breath as someone wrenched the gun out of his hand. Like a child angry that his toy had been taken away, he began to swing and kick wildly and managed to connect with something.

Bubba shook it off and grabbed Merrill by the shirt. He yanked him up, only to punch him and knock him a good ways across the yard. Bubba had landed more gracefully than Evans in the fall from the roof, but not by much. The fresh wound in his side ate up any advantage he'd started with.

Althea only watched in the pouring rain, half stunned by the scene unfolding in her front yard. It was like something out of an action movie, as Bubba bounced Merrill’s head off the neighbor’s picket fence.

Merrill was only a bit smaller than Bubba, but much younger. He obviously didn’t have the older man’s fighting experience, but he did have one definite advantage, he had gone totally insane. Without any concern for his own safety, he was like a crazed animal. Bubba was taking just as much abuse as he dished out.

Bubba was so lean now, Althea could see every muscle working. She could tell he was putting everything he had into trying to get Merrill smashed down into the muddy lawn. The rain and mud were working against him, keeping his adversary just slippery enough to wiggle out of every move he used on him.

Every missed opportunity to subdue Merrill gave the younger man another chance to punch or kick. Bubba returned each blow hard, until finally he had a chance to deliver several to Merrill's gut in quick succession, heaving him off the ground several times. Merrill dropped to his knees, only to use that as a chance to jab Bubba where he was weakest. Bubba's freshly healed bullet wound was a nasty pink starburst screaming to be noticed and Merrill didn't miss.

For the first time, Bubba yelped and stumbled back to a safe distance. Merrill saw his opening and moved on Althea. It left him wide open for Bubba to hit him with a flying tackle that sent them both sliding across the wet yard on impact.

_I’ve got to stop this,_ Althea thought frantically. Various emergency vehicles filled the street. She had hesitated to go to them for help at first. She knew there would be confusion and had hoped that Bubba would get Merrill somewhat subdued before the Philly P.D. came running in.

A cruiser, leaving the still roaring house fire, spotted the muddy pair pounding each other senseless. The rest of the predawn hours were a blur to her.

xxxxxxxxxx

“I wish you’d see a doctor,” Althea said, walking into the garage.

Bubba was sitting on top of her chest style freezer. He said, “If I was mortally wounded, I think I’d have noticed by now.”

Althea rolled her eyes in frustration. She’d been badgering him all morning. He wasn’t badly bruised in the face. Merrill preferred to go for the body. She knew because she had a front row seat the previous evening.

The Philly police hadn’t helped. They’d kept Bubba handcuffed in the rain, leaned against the neighbor's partially demolished fence, for an hour while they sorted everything out. Even with Bubba's badge in hand, they wouldn't take Althea's word for it that he was a cop or even give him the benefit of the doubt, removing the cuffs or getting him out of the cold rain.

Finally, at Bubba's urging, she'd gone inside to dry off, check on the children and wait. It would have probably been two hours, instead of one, if Vesker hadn’t heard the chatter over the scanner and showed up to see the show.

“You just don’t quit do you,” Vesker had chuckled, shaking his head.

Bubba had only given him a lopsided grin in response. Dark hair plastered to his head. Shirtless. Mud caked in places the rain couldn't wash it away.

“Do you hillbillies always fight without shoes?” Vesker teased, looking at Bubba’s bare feet.

Bubba hadn’t had time to find his boots. After hearing someone on the roof, he’d instantly realized the fire was just a distraction and had headed up the stairs.

The joke was actually on the Philadelphia P.D. When they finally took off the handcuffs, Althea swooped in to take over, giving each officer a cold stare in turn as she fussed over Bubba. Vesker chuckled, noticing how the hillbilly had apparently won the lady's favor, getting to put one arm around her shoulder to be led inside to what he suspected would be a hot shower to start, followed by a lot of pampering.

To Vesker, it looked like the poor guy had earned it. Evans had already broken one officer's nose and busted two windows out of the back of a cruiser. Bubba had managed to handle the nut by himself. Vesker was impressed. It didn't surprise him that the daughter of one of the best cops the city had ever seen would latch on to this one.

"So, how is old Ironjaw Peterson these days?" he deliberately asked, loud and clear.

"My father is just fine." Althea noted quite a few shocked and sheepish expressions around her, before helping an utterly exhausted Bubba up the front steps. She muttered under her breath, "Assholes."

Althea wrote something on a box, still angry over the events of the previous night. Assholes, indeed.

Bubba said, “I’m sorry if he scared ya. I just don’t move as fast as I used to.”

They’d been over this already and she smiled at him. “You saved my life, I think that allows you a little leniency.” She put the cap back on the permanent marker and asked, “Have you decided yet?”

“You know, if they start askin' if we’re there yet, I’ll join in.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed. “I figured we’d make it a two or three day drive. Let the kids enjoy themselves.”

“Are we talkin' giant balls of twine and museums sportin' two headed dogs?”

“Definitely!”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Can I come too?” Virgil begged from the door that led into the kitchen. The twins had insisted on his “Mystery Meat” special for breakfast. It was just Spam and eggs, which was all he could find.

“Sorry, no more room," she teased, knowing for certain he couldn't come along even if he wanted. He was staying around for the time being. "Any word from Jackson?” she asked hopefully.

“Not really, but it still sounded promising the last time I talked to her.”

“Job offa'?” Bubba asked.

Virgil nodded and then said, “You’d think Thea’d get tired of me following her around everywhere.” He went back into the kitchen and retrieved his coat, then returned. The days were getting colder. “When are you leaving?”

“If everything goes okay, in the morning,” she replied. “We'll be spending tonight at my parents'."

It had not gone unnoticed that Bubba had been snatched from him, expected to stay at Althea's side for the foreseeable future. Virgil kissed his ex-wife on the cheek, still determined to not get involved in whatever was happening between the two. “Probably won’t see you before you go. Take care of yourself.”

“Ditto.” She gave him a big hug.

“I’d kiss you too, but people would talk,” Virgil said, shaking Bubba’s hand to lead into a half-hug-half-shoulder-slap that manly men found acceptable. “Look out for her... well, keep looking out for her.”

“I will.” Bubba smiled broadly.

Virgil had been gone for a few minutes before Althea joined Bubba on top of the beat up white freezer. It was staying behind too. It hadn’t worked in months. Just a few miscellaneous boxes remained and perhaps another box worth of essentials left lying around the house until the very end.

She rested her head on his shoulder and took his hand without a moment's hesitation. Only hours ago, this would have seemed wrong to him, but things had changed. A hug hadn't killed him, a little hand holding probably wouldn't either. He didn't know exactly what to make of it or what it meant, but if she wanted it, then it was fine by him. It certainly didn't mean they were going steady.

She finally spoke, almost distantly, “I’m a lucky woman. I’ve got two great kids, an ex-husband that I actually like, very much. My career leaves me feeling fulfilled... and now, I’m going home.”

“Enjoy it, you’ve earned it,” Bubba replied, squeezing her hand.

“Would it be wrong of me to want more?”

He thought for a moment and said, “S’pose not. Isn’t that sorta’ what life is about?”

“Living life to the fullest?”

“Exactly.” He met her gaze and smiled.

She smiled warmly and sighed. She rested her head on his shoulder again and daydreamed of even better days ahead.

Bubba sat quietly next to her and wondered,  _What more does she want?_

What she wanted was him.


End file.
